Library of Congress. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Chap, 
Shelf 









THE 

FOUNTAIN 

OP 

LIVING WATERS, 



SERIES OF SKETCHES 



A LAYMAN. 




And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. 
And let him that heareth say. Come. 
And let him that is athirst come. 
And whosoever will, let him take the water 
of life freely. 

Rev. xxii. 17. 



GEORGE P. PUTNAM. 

loxdox : putnam's American agency. 

HDCOCL. 

. y 



Tip Library 
of Congress 



WASHINGTON 



$!*$ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S49, by 

GEORGE P. PUTNAM, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern 

District of New York. 



E. O. JENKINS, PRINTER, 

114 Nassau st. 



CONTENTS. 




CHAPTER I. 
Of one who drank deep of Earth's Foun- 


Page. 


tains, 


5 


CHAPTER II. 




Just entering the Desert, 


11 


CHAPTER III. 




The Desert, 


24 


CHAPTER IV. 




The Desert still, . 


41 


CHAPTER V. 




The Mirage in the Desert, 


70 


CHAPTER VL 




A Glimpse of the Fountain, 


85 


CHAPTER Vn. 




On the "brink of the Fountain. Hesitat- 




ing to drink, . 


103 


CHAPTER VIII. 




The Fountain of Living Waters, 


124 



CHAPTER I. 



OP ONE WHO DRANK DEEP OF EARTH'S FOUNTAINS. 

While hearts are younjj and hopes are high, 

A fairy scene doth Jife appear ; 
Its sights are beauty to the eye, 

Its sounds are music to the ear : 
But soon it glides from youth to age, 

And of its joys no more possessed, 
We, like the captive of the cage, 

Would flee a Way and be at rest. 

Malcolm. 



In life's early morning, when the feel- 
ings are fresh, and the heart is buoyant, 
and hopes run high ; when the spirits have 
an elasticity no weight of sorrow can for 
more than a moment depress ; when only 
to breathe the air is delight, and living is 
enjoying ; how like the gloomy picturings 
of the misanthropist appear all those rep- 
resentations of the world, which speak of 



D THE FOUNTAIN OF 

it as a vale of tears, overshadowed by 
many a lowering cloud, swept by many a 
desolating tempest ; which give warning 
of the thousand hidden pitfalls and snares 
cunningly contrived by the great adversary 
of souls, to delude and catch the young 
and the heedless. How like the peevish 
repinings of those who have outlived en- 
joyment, seem all those heart- wrung ex- 
pressions, which proclaim the vanity of 
earth-born joys ; the shallowness of what 
is called a life of pleasure, the unsatisfying 
nature of all sublunary things. 

So at least it was with me. Life lay 
spread out before me. one long green vi: 
all bathed in sunshine, and with a light 
step and laughing heart I began to tread 
it. Many a fall had I at the very outset ; 
and when I arose, half bewildered, a confused 
recollection of a better way, and the prom- 



LIVING WATERS. / 

ise of a guide therein, came to my mind, and 
with it came the half-formed resolve to seek 
that way, and to follow that faithful guide. 

But He who is emphatically styled the 
" Prince of the power of the air," was ever 
at hand at such critical moments, and with 
his subtle might filled with fair forms and 
alluring phantoms the broad and beaten 
path, whispering, as he passed by, " Walk 
in this way, and the delights of the sons 
of men are yours ; follow every impulse, 
drink of every proffered cup of pleasure, 
and the end thereof shall not be death." 

As thousands have done before me, and 
as, alas ! thousand thousands will do after 
me, I believed the lie and pushed madly 
on ; fainter and fainter came the warnings, 
and when they did come they were rudelv 
thrust aside as unwelcome guests. Of 
every cup of pleasure presented to my 



b THE FOUNTAIN OF 

feverish lips, I drank. I travelled in for- 
eign lands — I trod many a scene hallowed 
in history, and lingered around the places 
embalmed in song. I walked in kings' 
palaces, and mingled with those the world 
call great, and fancy happy — came back 
to my native land — 

" Unfound the boon, unslaked the thirst" — 
and took up the burden of the wise man's la- 
mentation, "Yanity of vanities, all is vanity." 

Then, once again, came that whisper, in 
accents so full of tenderness and love, 
" Come unto me, all ye that labor and are 
heavy laden, and I will give you rest." It 
was the same invitation that had fallen 
upon my ear in early days, the long-slight- 
ed call again repeated. I paused and lis- 
tened, and thought and prayed, and the 
veil passed away from my heart, and Jesus 
opened my eyes. 



LIVING WATERS. V 

But youth is gone — spent in chasing the 
shadows and following the illusions of a 
darkened imagination and an unregenerate 
heart. That glorious seed-time all gone ; 
those wasted talents, never again can I 
gather them up ; but whilst I look back 
with a tearful eye and saddened heart, be- 
cause those hours can never be recalled, 
and the influences then exerted never can 
be stayed — because I have lived my youth 
away so sadly ; there is something cheer- 
ing in the hope that I may yet, in some 
small degree, redeem the time in this hum- 
ble attempt to direct those who are just 
starting upon life through a dark and 
thirsty desert where no water is, to a nar- 
row path, hidden from the multitude, 
which runs by living streams of sparkling 
freshness. We are disposed to smile at 
the credulity of the poor care-worn, life- 



10 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

worn Ponce de Leon, who sold all that he 
had, and went to seek, amid the wild flow- 
ers and untrodden groves of Florida, a 
fountain that would renew his youth ; but 
the old Spanish knight only acted out the 
longing of many a weary, world- worn heart, 
thirsting for something better and higher 
than it yet hath known ; to such then — but 
especially those who are just entering upon 
life — a life which will shape the destiny of 
all when human life shall be no more ; to 
these I speak in the hope, that, by making 
plain the path by simple illustrations taken 
from the facts that have occurred within 
my own observation, I may lead them to 
the Fountain of Living Waters. 



LIVING WATERS. 11 



CHAPTER II. 

JUST ENTERING THE DESERT. 

Unthinking, idle, wild, and young, 

I laugh'd, and talk'd, and danced, and snng ; 

And proud of health, of freedom vain, 

Dream'd not of sorrow, care, or pain 

Concluding, in those hours of glee, 

That all the world was made for me. 

Princess Amelia. 

As I have intimated, my aear young 
friend, you believe life to be one long holi- 
day — some thorns, of course, in the path 
where flowers are springing — now and then 
a cloud to break the flood of sunshine, and 
ever and anon a bleak wind to beat back 
the gentle summer breeze ; but these are 
too transient to darken your look into the 
future ; the delicious blue sky stretches its 
beautiful canopy over all, and the light 



12 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

looks down and irradiates every untrodden 
scene. With all the confidence and self- 
reliance of youth, you are ready to set out — 
it is just here I would take you by the 
hand and ask you to listen. 

I know how hard it will be to get your 
attention but for a moment, to induce you 
to pause, and just look over the same 
scene through the clear mirror of revelation 
— just for one short hour to stop and pon- 
der this question : For what purpose was I 
created ? What end is to be answered by 
my living in this world ? Why am I en- 
dowed with these glorious faculties, these 
deep affections, this capacity for loving, 
these lofty aspirations — why were they 
given me ? Was it that I might, butter- 
fly-like, drink pleasure from every flower 
that scents the breeze, bask for a moment 
in the sunshine, and then moulder away 



LIVING WATERS. 1 3 

'beneath the clods of the valley. " He 
lived and died"' — " ashes to ashes" — " dust 
to dust" — is that all ? Every feeling of 
the undying soul revolts at such a thought. 
What ! gifted with an intellect that can 
scale the heights of heaven and explore 
the deep abyss of the second death, only 
for this ? Xo ! my dear voting friend, 
you know you were not. 

The philosopher, in the dim twilight of 
centuries past,, had better thoughts than 
these, and with a o*aze of a^onizincr earnest- 
ness sought and hoped to get some o-limpse 
of the life of the soul beyond the gloomy 
Styx. But we who live in the full blaze 
of revelation know that man has a nobler 
destiny ; that he is here but on the thresh- 
old of his real existence, and that when 
life's fitful fever is over he will walk, a liv- 
ing spirit, amid scenes which the Spirit has 



14 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

dimly revealed to us, but which no mortal 
pen can describe. I say we know this ; 
and yet, to the shame of man be it spoken, 
how many actually know nothing of these 
things. 

Why, the angels, who walk in the un- 
clouded light of his presence, could not 
believe, did they not witness the strange 
exhibition of it upon earth, that after the 
Almighty had stretched forth his hand and 
drawn aside the veil which had shut out the 
future world from the gaze of mortals, they 
would pass on to death, and the. things 
that are coming after, refusing even so 
much as to glance at those scenes, those 
awful realities which every child of the 
dust must behold, and in which every liv- 
ing soul must act a thrilling part. And 
yet so it is. 

And here is the fatal error in all youth- 



LIVING WATERS. 15 

ful calculations ; in all their plans, far- 
reaching though they be, they never stretch 
beyond the confines of this passing world ; 
to obtain its pleasures and its honors, its 
wealth and its power, is with them the 
great end of life. 

Now talk to one thus deluded of the 
uncertainty of attaining these objects, of 
their unsatisfying nature when within our 
grasp — tell him how the sated heart will 
sicken with them, and turn away and weep 
for something better ; say to him, in the 
language of England's purest poet, 

" ~We die, my friend, 
Nor we alone, but that which each man loved, 
And prized in his peculiar nook of earth, 
Dies with him, or is changed ; and very soon, 
Even of the good is no memorial left !" 

and you will appear like one that mocketh. 
He knows there are delights in the path 



16 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

he is entering, and he does not believe 

they are unsatisfactory : and it is true that 
there are such things as the pleasures of 
sin. there are delights tasted by the chil- 
dren of the world, the daughters of music 
and the dance do rind joy therein ; and it 
is contrary to experience, and contrary to 
Scripture, to deny their existence. 

Did they not exist, Satan's power were 
well nio-h gone ; they are his mightiest 
weapons, and by them he has slain his 
tens of thousands : it was when our Sav- 
iour had baffled all his temptations that 
he showed him all the kingdoms of the 
world, and the glory of them, and said, 
"All these things will I give thee; 9 ' and 
though this lying promise is eighteen cen- 
turies old. it seems to have lost none of its 
power. 

We grant, then, my young friend, that 



LIVING WATERS. 1 < 

the world has its pleasures : but we do as- 
sert, from the teachings of experience, and 
the word of God, that they are as transi- 
tory as the morning mist upon the moun- 
tains, and dry up as swiftly as the early 
dew : that they are unworthy the pursuit 
of an immortal being, and viewed in the 
glowing light of the eternal day which 
never se:s upon our heavenly home, they 
are poor beyond the power of language to 
express ; and we do assert that one hour 
oi tearful unclouded communion with Jesus 
is worth them all ; and this is not the lan- 
guage of one religious enthusiast, but the 
ordinary experience of almost every hum- 
ble disciple of the cross. " I can assure 
you," says one who is now before the 
throne, " from all that ever I have felt of 
it, the pleasures oi being forgiven, are as 
superior to the pleasures of an unforgiven 



18 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

man, as heaven is higher than hell. The 
peace of being forgiven reminds me of the 
calm blue sky, which no earthly clamors 
can disturb. It lightens all labor, sweet- 
ens every morsel of bread, and makes a 
sick bed all soft and downy ; yea, it takes 
away the scowl of death !" 

But paltry as the pleasures of sin appear 
when estimated aright, they are, as we 
have said, the mighty fascinations whereby 
souls are lured to ruin ; they assume every 
garb, they sometimes present themselves 
as perfectly innocent, leading to no results 
whatever, and at others as the natural enjoy- 
ments of the young and buoyant ; and if 
they lead to excess, they contend that this 
is only the extravagance of youth and ani- 
mal spirits ; they appeal to the appetites 
and the senses, and rush into every inlet 
of the unguarded heart ; they are present, 



LIVING WATERS. 



19 



tangible, while the great transactions that 
are going on in the spiritual world about 
us, are all unseen and all unfelt. Being 
spiritual, they cannot be brought to the 
vision of the natural man, they can alone 
be apprehended by faith. Does this seem 
a strange saying, that the things of the 
spirit world can only be seen through a 
spiritual vision, which by the inspired 
writers is called faith ? does this reach 
beyond analogy ? does not the illiterate 
traveller pass with a cold, unconscious gaze 
that mass of misshapen masonry, the crum- 
bling ruin full of thrillinsr interest to the 
other, whose mind is stored with moving 
incidents, linked in with every stone of that 
time -honored and forsaken castle ? are they 
the less real because the other sees them 
not? 

I passed part of a lovely summer in 



20 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

the Isle of Wight. It was with a feeling 
almost of sadness that I went on a pilgrim- 
age, one genial summer day, to Carisbrook 
Castle. Slowly and thoughtfully I clam- 
bered up the hill, from the top of which 
the ruins look down upon a beautiful land- 
scape ; that was the heavy gateway 
through which the royal fugitive entered ; 
here Charles ascended ; and this is the 
keep, and this dilapidated room, so damp 
and dark, is where he slept ; and that is 
the very window through which the poor 
prisoner looked upon the fresh green pic- 
ture, and wept over his fallen fortunes ; 
whatever I may think of Charles Stuart 
now, my heart then beat in sympathy with 
the fallen monarch ; and as I plucked a piece 
of ivy which was clambering round the win- 
dow where once he leaned, I could almost 
see that pale, sad face turn and look at me. 



LIVING WATERS. 21 

We resided in one of those vine- covered 
cottages which look out upon Southampton 
water, and when the sun arose we would 
mount and away through every lane and 
by any path that would lead to scenes of 
beauty, and it was difficult to go amiss in 
that lovely island. Like a gallery of glo- 
rious pictures set in gold, they rose up 
before my imagination ; but there they 
are, with their delicious tint and magical 
blending of light and shade, and rich green 
foliage of grove and forest, and shining- 
water, and running stream, and glowing 
sky ; so beautiful as to swell the heart and 
close the lips ! I walked amid these scenes 
as I had often walked amid the scenes of 
surpassing loveliness in my own native 
land. And yet I was looking down upon 
a landscape, hallowed in the memory of 
every reading Christian. There stood that 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 

old antique church, and beside it the quiet 
grave-yard where little Jane first heard 
those crlad tidings, and the poor child of 
and poverty was changed into an heir 
of a glorious immortality, and where her 
body lies waiting for the morning of the 
resurrection; and there was the humble 
cottage near Arreton, where the Dairy- 
man's Daughter lived and died, and a 
thousand scenes which the pen of Legh 
Richmond has pain: b enchanting- 

colors — places to which I would fain make 
a pilgrimage now. But as I had then never 
read those simple and touching tales which 
have crone into all lands — a blessino* to all 
nations — those scenes had no neculiar in- 
terest, had, in fact, no existence to me. 

Just so is it in the spiritual world. 
The unveiled eye of the Christian sees 
above and around him things of wondrous 



LIVING W A T E B - 23 

loveliness and surpassing glory; the an- 
gel:: ies; the cloud of witness 
the noble army of martyrs ; the erown of 
glory ; the many mansions of his Father's 
house ; and Jesus there ! thrilling real:: 
which neither the philosophy, nor the ridi- 
cule, nor the blandishments of the world 
:heat him out of, or make them other 
than they are, living facts. But the be- 
nighted child of earth, blinded by the god 
of the world, gropes along as heedless 
uninfluenced, as unblessed by them as 
though they were the wild dreams of the 
r the beautiful visions of the 
poet. They gather around him, and ap- 
peal is noble and undying in 
his nature ; but he discerns them not, 
because the spiritual, and to be 
seen v?, and this alas! he has 



24 THE FOUNTAIN OF 



CHAPTER III. 

THE DESERT. 

Man hath a weary pilgrimage 

As through the world he wends ; 
On every stage, from youth to age. 

Still discontent attends ; 
With heaviness he casts his eye, 

Upon the road before, 
And still remembers, with a sigb, 

The days that are no more. 

S0UTHE\. 

Well, then, you say, since these things 
ot the spirit world can only be apprehend- 
ed by faith, and we have not this gift or 
acquisition, whichever it be, how can we be 
influenced by it in forming our estimate of 
life? 

I would ask in return, what do you 
mean by saying you have not faith ? 



LIVING WATERS. 25 

You believe the Bible to be the revealed 
will of God, for I am speaking to the 
sons and daughters of Christian parents. 
Among- its wonderful revelations are 
these : that we are fallen creatures ; that 
all that are born into the world do sin 
from their youth up ; and as sinners are 
condemned to endure, when this life is 
ended, all that is implied in that fearful 
expression, " the wrath of the Lamb" That 
God has no pleasure in consigning his 
creatures to such a doom, but that his 
righteous law demands the punishment of 
the incorrigibly guilty. That Jove is the 
very essence of his being, and that this is 
so, is made manifest by his own declara- 
tion and the countless exhibitions of it ; 
but revealed chiefly in this, that he gave 
his only-begotten and well-beloved Son to 
die, that every sinner, however degraded, 



26 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

however vile, might escape the doom of 
hell, and reap the joys of heaven. 

That he came to this earth — and the lat- 
ter pages of the Bible tell the story of his 
life of sorrow and his death of agony — his 
resurrection and ascension to his Father, 
and that there, at the Father's right hand 
he lives to intercede, and that no prayer 
offered sincerely in his name will be un- 
heard, no sinner — no, not the veriest cast- 
away on earth — will be turned away if he 
comes in penitence and simple faith. And 
further, it depicts in glowing imagery the 
future abode of those who thus come, 
obey, follow, and sleep in Jesus. 

All this you have read, and you believe 
it to be true. But do you suppose that 
this is the faith the apostle speaks of when 
he says, " By faith ye are saved' ' — that 
faith which brings the realities of the un- 



LIVING WATERS. 27 

seen world so vividly to view, that we act 
with reference to them, and are influenced 
by them in our daily walk? Does a 
thought of the life to come, shape one of 
your actions ? does the desire to please 
Him who died to save us influence you as 
a governing principle ? Are the commands 
of Jesus your rule of life ? You have 
never even thought of these things ; you 
are, in a certain sense, as I have said, fa- 
miliar with the plan God has devised to 
save man, and yet with an inconsistency 
which on any other subject would appear 
to you utter folly, you are quieting your 
conscience with an indefinable hope of be- 
ing saved in some other way — a kind of 
general notion of the benevolence of God, 
and a half reliance on your own good in- 
tentions. 

A young friend said to me, when urging 



2 S THE FOFNTAI N F 

upon him the necessity of following Christ 
upon earth, if we would reign with him in 
heaven : " You have a right to think as 
you please on this subject, and you do 
ridit to live in accordance with vour views 
of the real nature of our existence here ; 
but I walk according to the light I have. 
I see no harm, as you do, in travelling on 
the Sabbath, no necessitv in o-oino; to 
church when I do not feel like it : no sense 
in giving up balls, and routs, and theatres ; 
no use in this eternal praying. If a man 
act up to the light he has, that is all that 
God will require of him/' And yet my 
young friend would have little respect for 
a man who did not believe the Bible to 
contain the only plan of salvation ; and he 
is but one of a vast multitude, who, with 
the unclouded light of the gospel to guide 
them, turn their backs upon it, and by a 



LIVING WATERS. 

dim msh-Iighi of their own contriving. _ : 

.nblingf along in darkness — a dark:, 
that will grow more intense,, for at death 
the rush-light will go out, and they will find 
themselves in a region where the black, 
of darkness broods forever. 

But you, my young reader, who are 
perhaps just budding into womanh : 
you are little interested in and scar; 
understand the false views which are be- 
guiling into ruin my amiable and moral 
:cr friend. You have grown up the 
indulged and cherished child of fond pa- 
rents — have aad a wish ungra ti- 
lled, and if care, which comes to all, has 
ever visited vou, h has been but the fleeting 
low of a summer cloud. You are s 
1 with the world as it is, and fa 
:ely ever thought that it was pas- 
nd though vou have heard of a 



30 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

life beyond the grave, it has passed through 
your mind like some vague story of a far- 
off land, with which you have no connec- 
tion, and are in no way interested. 

Fresh as if it were but yesterday is the 
memory of the companion of my early 
studies ; the gentle friend whose smile or 
frown had much to do with my boyish 
happiness. I never thought Fanny Ran- 
dolph was an angel, for when teased be- 
yond endurance I had very unmistakeable 
evidence that she was flesh and blood ; but 
to my youthful imagining she was the fair- 
est creature that ever walked the earth — 
and, so thought some who looked upon 
her through a colder medium, so guileless, 
so frank, so glad-hearted, that pleasant 
face, not so very beautiful, but so very 
loveable — a pity it seems it should have 
passed away from earth with no record of 



LIVING WATERS. 31 

it but what is written on a few loving 
hearts that will soon have also passed 
away. As she was the only daughter of 
wealthy parents, no pains or expense were 
spared in her education ; she could read 
several modern languages, draw prettily, 
play on several musical instruments, sing 
sweetly, and we boys thought her the 
most graceful dancer that frequented the 
ball-room, and most anxiously did we con- 
tend for her hand. She went through the 
course of our fashionable school, and was 
what was called thoroughly educated. And 
yet even were this world all, what a wretch- 
ed preparation for the sober realities and the 
trials of daily life ! But when we consider 
this as only a state of preparation for a 
higher state of being, as the seed-time for 
eternity, how utterly worthless it had all 
been, the time how lamentably mis-spent ! 



32 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

How sudden the transition from the 
school-girl to womanhood ! I was yet a 
boy when Fanny Randolph, who was a 
little my senior, had entered society as a 
young lady ; and I well remember my 
feeling of indignation when I first discov- 
ered that my early playmate was disposed 
to treat me as a boy, and slight my society 
for those who had seen twice as many 
summers as I had. 

It was a winter of unusual gayety, even 
for New York, for- there were many like 
Fanny, who were for the first time to be 
introduced into the fashionable world, and 
join that magic circle of which they had 
caught but partial glimpses, and whose 
fascinating round of gayety, of music, 
dance, and song, was to them the realiza- 
tion of every thought and dream of hap- 
piness. 



LIVING WATERS. 33 

Rich and fair, she was courted, caressed, 
and flattered. Her hand was sought for 
every dance ; when she sang, applause 
awaited her ; and every laughing speech 
was echoed by many admirers ; night after 
night she trod the same exciting scene, 
until the winter was well-nigh spent. A 
slight cold she had taken, she scarce knew 
how, and which she laughingly said, she 
had not time to attend to till spring, neg- 
lected, began to assume a more serious 
form, and when the evening came of the 
last rout of the season, she was drooping 
under the influence of a slow fever. But 
as it was the last party, she exerted her- 
self, and the excitement and effort lent a 
glow to her countenance which her fond 
parents mistook for the flush of returning 
health. She was never more admired, 
never more gay ; her sweet laugh never 



34 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

rang more sweetly. At a late hour, jaded 
and exhausted, she threw herself back in 
the carriage, and when she reached home, 
had scarcely strength to ascend the stairs. 
The next morning she was raving with a 
brain fever. At one time she was moving 
through the dance, then a smile would 
pass over her face, and she would take up 
the snatches of some familiar song, with 
such a plaintive, half-broken voice, that it 
went to the heart of those who watched 
beside her ; and ever and anon a look of 
terror would distort her features, and then 
she would sink into a deep, heavy sleep. 
Fourteen days and nights, marked by those 
alternations of better and worse which so 
cheat the hopeful, fearful heart, had passed 
away, and when again I called, she was 
dead. Never, never can I forget the 
strange, speechless feeling of awe that 



LIVING WATERS. 35 

stole into my young heart, as I looked 
upon that still marble face ; and the chill 
that passed over me as I kissed that white 
forehead. This was death — and I was 
looking upon it for the first time ! 

It was one of those days in early spring- 
when the last moan of the winter wind has 
died away, and the soft, warm breeze was 
creeping on from the south, too gentle to 
stir the leafless spray, and the grass, with 
its early coat of vivid green, was springing 
in every area, and every crevice in the side- 
walk, and the sun, with its genial warmth, 
was streaming down — on such a day it was 
that we bore the winter belle to her last 
resting-place. 

Some of us had been the playmates of 
her childhood — all of us, who were named 
to be her bearers, had been the friends and 
companions of her life of gayety. 



36 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

And we wept, as the young alone do 
weep, without control, without reserve. 
Nor did we weep alone ; for there was not 
a dry eye when we laid Fanny Randolph 
in the grave-yard of old Trinity. 

But what are the sorrows of the young ? 
how soon the wound is closed — how soon 
the tear is dried away ! The summer flow- 
ers blossomed and died upon that new- 
made grave, and when the falling leaf 
rustled §ver it, the sleeper beneath was 
well-nigh forgotten by the gay companions 
who were about entering upon the dissipa- 
tions of another winter, and not one of 
whom had laid to heart the sorrowful 
tragedy of Fanny Randolph's history. 

And is it not, my young reader, a tra- 
gedy of the saddest kind, that one so gen- 
tle and so sweet, and yet so sinful and so 
lost — to whom it was given to live in the 



LIVING WATERS. 37 

full light of the gospel day — in whose hands 
was placed the Book, which though full 
of fathomless mysteries, is yet a plain and 
certain guide to the humble, prayerful 
student ; that one so favored, and who 
might have walked in white, and tuned 
her harp, and joined in the chorus of the 
ransomed — is it not, I say, a thing so sad 
that angels might well weep over it ? that 
she should have walked the earth as if it 
were all of life to live, hearing, and yet 
hearing not, of the danger and the refuge — 
no more impressed with the things of the 
life to come than if they were cunningly 
devised fables, and in the midst of light 
going down into darkness. 

But perhaps you are ready to think that 
this foreboding of the fate of one so lovely- 
is but the narrow judgment of a bigotted 
religionist. We have only to say, examine 



38 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

for yourself ; search the Scriptures, which, 
with me, you believe to be the only re- 
vealed guide to heaven, and see whether a 
life of thoughtless gayety — such a life as 
Fanny led, and such a life as thousands 
are now living — is the way to eternal life. 

It may be painful to you to think of so 
many friends, amiable and exemplary in all 
their conduct, as hastening to a doom too 
fearful for language to describe : and yet, 
if you read the Scriptures with an honest, 
truth-loving heart, you must be convinced 
that they have not so much as looked into 
the strait and narrow way which alone 
leads heavenward ; that instead of denying 
themselves, and taking up the cross and 
following Jesus, they have not even en- 
rolled themselves among his followers ; 
and though they have some confused no- 
tion of salvation through his merits, have 



LIVING WATERS. 39 

no more trust in him, no mure communion 
with him, than if he did not actually exist. 

And this class of uncaring dreamers is a 
countless throng ; they press along every 
lane and avenue of life ; they people this 
broad road, and tread it with as fearless 
and steady a step, as if it did not lead to 
eternal death. 

Oh, is it not wonderful that in these lat- 
ter days ; when the veil, which hid from 
mortal sight the wondrous scenes of the 
invisible world around and beyond us, has 
been drawn aside, and we have been per- 
mitted to catch a look into " the bottom- 
less pit," and a glimpse of the effulgent, 
unfading glories of the pearly-gated city ; 
when warnings to avoid the former, and 
invitations to seek the latter, are heard 
upon every breeze ; when the press is 
teeming with works on the great theme of 



40 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



the life which is to come, so that the gos- 
pel is pouring its glorious light into every 
dwelling of every land, from the laborer's 
hovel to the prince's palace ; is it not pass- 
ing strange that, thus enlightened, men 
should lie down and die like the beasts 
that perish ? 



LIVING WATERS. 41 



CHAPTER IV. 



THE DESERT STILL 

A pleasing land of drowsy-head it wajs, 

Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye : 

And of gay castles in the clouds that pas?, 
For ever flashing round a summer sky. 

Thomson. 



It may be that you, my young reader, 
have very little respect for this earth-lov- 
ing, grovelling multitude ; you can scarcely 
conceive it possible that the flight of a 
man's intellect should never reach beyond 
this world and its poor concerns, and you 
believe that man's religious nature is that 
which most elevates and ennobles him ; and 
I do not know that I can better read to 
vou vour own character, and describe a 



42 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

large class, than by telling you a few 
things of a very pleasant companion of 
other days ; and should this meet his eye, 
and he recognize the portrait, may He 
whose footsteps are not known, make it 
the means of leading him away from fail- 
ing, unsatisfying springs of earth, to the 
Fountain of Living Waters. 

John Gordon was what was called a 
very promising youth. He was not over- 
fond of study, but he was quick-witted, 
and knew how to make the most of what 
he knew. He had a great facility in wri- 
ting doggerel verses, which raised him 
greatly in the opinion of his young com- 
panions, and his song, ready at any one's 
call, made him a prime favorite. 

His easy, indolent father — his mother 
died when he was an infant — took but lit- 
tle oversight of his education, and his re- 



LIVING WATERS. 43 

ligious training was wholly neglected ; but 
young Gordon's pride led him to apply 
himself to his studies, so that he stood very 
well in his class in college, and an affair 
of the heart made him a constant attend- 
ant at church. The habit thus formed 
had such an influence on him, even at the 
present day, that without knowing exactly 
whv, he had a verv uncomfortable feeling 
when he passed a Sabbath away from 
church. But it was something more than 
mere habit. He frequented one of those 
beautiful temples that adorn our city, and 
while his eye is pleased with the exquisite 
proportions of nave, transept, and spring- 
ing column, seen by the soft and tinted 
light of the stained windows, the poetry of 
his nature finds delight in the simple and 
solemn services, the rich melody of the or- 
gan, and the heaven-like music of the choir 



44 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

Nor is his ear entirely closed against the 
preacher's voice, but often, as he dwells 
upon the ennobling gospel themes, the 
Saviour's walk of sorrow here on earth, 
his touching sympathy, his tender dying 
love, or points beyond, to joys " which eye 
hath not seen, or ear heard, neither hath 
entered into the heart of man to conceive," 
the preacher is " unto him as a very 
lovely song of one that hath a pleasant 
voice, and can play well on an instrument." 
But like Ezekiel's hearers, they no more 
stir him than the summer breeze the forest 
oak. 

Very beautiful and pleasant to his culti- 
vated imagination is it all ; and he believes 
there is religion in it ; and when we once 
ventured to express our doubts whether 
these outward circumstances of worship, 
though they might cause the heart to me] t 



LIVING WATERS. 45 

and the eye to dim with tears, had any 
tendency to produce in the unregenerate a 
true feeling of devotion, anything like the 
spiritual worship of the broken and con- 
trite-hearted, we believe he looked upon 
us as worse than an infidel. 

We have intimated that the sound of the 
gospel was as familiar to him as household 
words, and yet, strange as it may seem, 
his apprehension of the plan of salvation is 
as dim and shadowy as the dreams of his 
childhood. 

He has a vague notion that there is 
something to be done — certain worldly 
practices to be given up, and some rather 
doubtful habits to be reformed ; and as 
life wears away, a little more frequent use 
of prayers ; and he fully intends at some 
indefinite time, very far down into the fu- 
ture, those far-off days when he shall say 



46 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

he has no pleasure in them, to give his 
attention to this business, which is very 
becoming to old age, and the fit employment 
of the dying hour. 

This done, he will be wafted into heaven, 
or rather into that sort of elysium which 
his poetical and dreamy imagination has 
conjured up — a region of rest and happi- 
ness, as unlike the heaven of which " the 
Lamb is the light thereof,'' as is the Para- 
dise of the Moslem, the Valhalla of the 
northern mythology, or the Spirit-land of 
the poor Indian, 

" Whose untutored mind 
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind ; 
Whose soul proud science never taught to stray 
Far as the solar walk or milky way ; 
Yet simple nature to his hope has given, 
Behind the cloud-topped hills, an humble hea- 
ven ; 
Some safer world in depth of wood embraced, 
Some happier island in the watery waste, 



LIVING W ATE 1! S 47 

Where slaves once more their native land be 

hold, 
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. 
To be, contents his natural desire, 
He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire ; 
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
His faithful dog shall bear him company.'' 

Thus cheated by a deceitful fancy, John 
Gordon is passing through this brief scene 
of trial. Sometimes a doubt will disturb 
his mind, whether the foundation of his 
hopes be sure ; but the general current of 
his life runs smoothly, and faint is the hope 
that he will ever be led to turn away from 
these mirages of the desert, and reach, ere 
it be too late, the Fountain of Living Wa- 
ters. 

Were I to foreshadow the last hours of 
one whose views were all so confused and 
cloudy, representing him with a brow 
wrinkled with anguish, a cheek blanched, 



48 t :-: z f o o it t a i n 

and an eye almost shrii its 

socket from very terror. I shov 
ably come near the reality hose ex- 

perience lias not shown him tfa is no 

uncommon occurrence, for those who have 
come down tc the honi :: lying, ignorant 

charactei :nce 

looked in the second death, 

to be : and so - b 

?f ::',i with a tone :■■: almost cheer- 
fulness ::' then peac afnl e 

My heart sinks within me while I recall 
the last hours of one who was - ammoned 
away 

We had been friends Eogel 
our hands first joined in I :n grasp 

of confiding boyhood. Much we had been 
separated, for he had entered the navy, and 

s constantly at sea. But frequent let- 



LIVING WATERS. 49 

ters kept the embers of friendship glowing, 
and ever the first to greet and the last to 
part were we. 

We spent the winter before his last 
age, at Washington. Young Matilda 
M'Kean was there, whose soft blue eyes, 
and sunny face, and graceful form, were 
the admiration of many : and then she 
sang with such a plaintive voice those 
touching melodies which none have written 
half so well as Moore. We sought her 
society, and I was not much surprised 
when William Trelawney imparted to me, 
with a hesitation never before exhibited, 
the secret of his attachment for her. 

It is not true that >; the course of true 
love never did run smooth,*' but there 
certainly were some counter-currents in 
this case ; what they were was never re- 
vealed to me. They sang together and 
4 



50 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

walked together, and when he went to sea 
in the spring they parted in tears. 

A summer and a winter passed, and an- 
other spring was fast verging into summer 
again, when I received a letter from Tre- 
lawney, dated from one of the ports of the 
Mediterranean, saying that he would cer- 
tainly be home in the autumn, and filled 
with raptures as he dwelt on the hope of 
looking " into Mary's eyes again/' 

I had heard that Matilda M'Kean had 
been ill, but was startled to learn, a few 
days after the receipt of Trelawney's let- 
ter, that she was failing fast, and was then 
in New York, travelling for her health. I 
called to see her, and learned that she had 
just gone into the country. 

I had been absent from the city about a 
fortnight, and on my return took up one 
of the newspapers that had accumulated 



LIVING WATERS. 



51 



on my table, and the record of her death 
was almost the first thing that met my eye. 

There is an obscure grave-yard not far 
from the Narrows on Long Island — a quiet, 
lonely spot, where the sunbeams rest 
throughout the year, and on which they 
fling their last lingering radiance as the 
sun goes down in the west. It lies off from 
the road — the tall waving grass is seldom 
crushed by the foot of man, and no noise 
breaks its stillness, save the sighing of the 
breeze through a neighboring grove, or the 
distant surging of the waves. It is the 
last resting-place of one who was very 
gentle and very lovely. Oh, how lovely 
Matilda M'Kean was — and there, when 
Trelawney returned, he often went to weep 
alone. 

For a time he gave up society, and 
seemed to be brooding over the past, and 



O Z THE FOUNTAIN OF 

none of the arts of friendship could cheer 
him, until this mode of life became too 
oppressive, and then, to banish thought, 
he plunged into all the gayety and dissi- 
pation of the world ; the wretched refuge 
of many an aching heart, and, alas ! the 
only refuge the world has to offer. 0, 
that Trelawney had known — 0, that I 
could have directed him to Him who came 
to wipe away the tears of the sorrow- 
stricken, and bind up the broken-hearted ! 
From the midst of a festive scene I was 
summoned to his dying bed. . He had 
ruptured a blood-vessel, and his life was 
ebbing fast away. With a noiseless step I 
approached his side, and gently laid my 
hand on his, and when his eye met mine, 
he drew me to his arms and wept long 
and bitterly; but after that, though there 
was an occasional knitting of the brow, he 



LIVING W ATERS, 



53 



was always calm and sometimes cheerful. 
At times his mind would wander, and then 
he would hum some familiar tune of other 
days, and exclaim, " Beautiful ! oh, how 
beautiful !" The physicians gave some 
little hope, provided all excitement was 
avoided : but we who watched there night 
and day, saw that his pilgrimage was 
ended. But yet we had hope, for there 
was a gentle female there, and she watched 
over him with all the solicitude and tender- 
ness of a mother, ministering to his com- 
fort in those many nameless ways woman 
alone can devise. And she was one whose 
heart had been touched by the love of Je- 
sus, and earnestly she begged that the dy- 
ing youth might be told that his hours 
were numbered, and that he might be 
pointed to that refuge which the expiring 
thief had sought and found. 



54 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

The future was nothing to us who were 
watching there, the present everything — 
and long we resisted ; but when hope had 
entirely fled, we sent for one whom we all 
respected for his consistent piety. He was 
then a faithful parish minister in our 
city — enshrined in many a heart is the 
memory of the esteemed Bishop of Massa- 
chusetts — breathless we hung upon his 
touching words, the simple gospel, simply 
preached ; and though I had heard it from 
childhood, I listened to it then for the first 
time ; and when we rose from prayer, poor 
Trelawney exclaimed : " Beautiful ! beau- 
tiful I" But his mind was all unstrung, 
and ran from scene to scene of other days, 
with all the unconnected wandering of 
delirium. 

The night before he died, as I sat watch- 
ing his moving lips, a slip of paper was 



LIVING W A T E B : 



placed in my hands, with these words : 
" The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from 
all sin — if he has a lucid moment read it 
to him." My heart beat quick as I traced 
the well-known hand of one who I well 
knew had himself just learned that precious 
truth. 

Long after midnight the rumbling of the 
carriages returning from a ball where we 
had been invited guests, broke upon the 
solemn stillness of that dimly lighted room. 
How hollow the world seemed to me then — 
how worthless its absorbing pursuits ! it 
preached to me a sermon I never have for- 
gotten — never shall forget. 

When every footfall, every sound had 
died away, every sound but the h- 
breathing of the dying youth, that breath- 
ing grew more calm, and his eye sought 
mine with a look which showed that reason 



56 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



was restored : and then he fixed his gaze 
upon a bright star which was looking down 
upon us from a cloudless sky. Closer he 
pressed my hand, and with a smile upon 
his pallid countenance, he slowly raised his 
finger, and pointing to the shining orb. he 
said: "Matilda is yonder in that beautiful 
world, and I shall soon follow her there." J 
A tear chased away the smile, and ere I 
could whisper those blessed words, he fell 
asleep. 

Those impassioned lines " to Mary in 
Heaven," which ran thus — 

'•Thou lingering star with lessening ray, 

That lov'st to greet the early morn. 
Again thou usherest in the day 

My Mary from my soul was torn. 
Mary ! dear departed shade ! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest ■ 
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid • 

Hear*st thou the groans that rend his breast! " 

— his song of poor Burns was his delight, 



LIVING WATERS 5 , 

and from other circumstances I was led 

gave shape to his dying 
thoughts. When the morning dawned, 
William Trelawney had gone to give an 
account of his stewardship. 

Tears were shed, and sad words were 
spoken, but all dwelt cheerfully on his 
peaceful end, and friends took comfort 
therefrom. And why should they not ? 
my reader exclaims ; would you lake this 
source of comfort from the mourning heart ? 
would you not c: . priceless bless- 

ing, the peaceful death of those you lov 
Oh, yes, my young friend, we do covet, 
we do pray, ever pray for this : that those 
we love may die the peaceful death of the 
righteous : bur we as earnestly lat it 

not be that false peace which calms 
the failing pulse of so many, and which is 
founded upon ignoram 



58 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



The poor mariner, who is sailing in un- 
known seas, and is unconsciously drifting 
into the engulfing whirlpool, may sing 
on his way with the same glad note as he 
who, guided by his chart, knows whither 
he is going. So the sinner, having no true 
view of his guilt, no spiritual knowledge of 
the law of God, no correct conception of 
that heaven of which the Lamb is the 
light thereof, and holding some incorrect 
and partial views of the boundless love of 
our heavenly Father, may come to the last 
struggle with a kind of apathy not unlike 
Christian peace ; and yet so unlike it that 
a flash of light from the Judgment-seat 
would cause it to vanish like mist before 
the whirlwind. 

We have alluded to the last hours of one 
who was well known in the gay circles of 
this gay city, as an illustration of a common 



LIVING- WATERS. 59 

event, a tranquil death produced by entire 
ignorance of human guilt and of a future 
state. We should be compelled to go 
further than our own experience, but not 
beyond the information of most of our 
young readers, to show that this tranquil- 
lity in the hour of death has been found 
by the sceptic and the infidel. It is not 
needful for me to repeat the record of 
Hume's wretched trifling, or Mirabeau's 
scenic display, or Voltaire's — no, not Vol- 
taire ! — the poor French scoffer had too 
much liorht and too much knowledge, and 
he writhed and shrieked as his wasting life 
hurried him nearer and nearer the brink of 
the second death — the awful doom de- 
scribed in those terrific words, " the wrath 
of the Lamb /" 

There is one other mode by which peace 
may be our portion in the hour of death — 



60 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

even a peace which passes all understand- 
ing. Yes, my young reader, there is such 
a thing as " falling asleep in Jesus." It is 
a blessed reality, and myriads now before 
the throne have found it, and myriads yet 
to come will find it ; and, cheered by the 
doctrine of the atonement, the meanest 
Christian may learn to " depart in peace," 
believing that, notwithstanding his frailties 
and his transgressions, his omnipotent Re- 
deemer is still able and willing to " save 
to the uttermost all that come unto God 
by him." Do you wish facts to prove this 
last assertion, that a simple trust in Jesus 
in his atoning sacrifice, will fill the soul with 
gladness as we go down into the " dark 
valley ?" The history of all ages is full of 
them ; ask those who have closed the eyes 
of the faithful followers of the cross in 
every land, and they will bear the same 



LIVING WATERS. 61 

testimony ; go yourself to the bedside of 
the dying Christian — one who has been 
walking with his lamp trimmed, and his 
loins girded, and there, unless error has 
clouded the spiritual vision, there you will 
find peace. 

Among the men of a generation now 
passing away, none was more esteemed or 
beloved than "William Erenveine. His no- 
ble countenance, his winning smile, his 
ready wit — ready to gladden, never to 
sting — his earnest sympathy and open 
hand I well remember. To the world he 
was known as the affluent, upright mer- 
chant, the courteous gentleman, and gifted 
scholar. His writings made many a care- 
worn face relax into a smile, and his wise 
counsels in the halls of Congress are still 
remembered by some ; but chiselled deeper 
into my memory than all else, is that tender 
4 



62 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



solicitude he manifested in the joys and 
griefs of us all, as, a happy band of I >ys 
and girls, we gathered about hi 

Wealth, reputation, friends, children, all 
were his ; and his one of the happiest fire- 
sides in the city of New York. But in the 
midst of it all, his step — oh, how many lov- 
ing eyes watched the growing lassitude of 
that once elastic step, and the flush e I 
of the wan cheek ! But still they scarcely 
believed the spoiler was at work, and trus: e i 
that the pure bracing air of the Highlands 
of the Hudson would revive his failing 
strength. The summer passed away, and 
when the autumn winds began to play w 
the falling leaf, William Erenveine came 
home to die. 

His wife, and boys, and girls — they had 
been the sunlight in his path, and the joy 
and the pride of his days, and the 



LIVING W A T ? 

the silken cords which bound him mosfl 
earth : and these cords were to be sev- 
ered : and he gathered them all around 
his bedside to tell them he was dying and 
going on his long journey. Tears were on 
his cheek., and his voice was broken with 
the gushings of a father's love ; and oh. 
what a father he had been ! no harshness, 
no stern words or repulsive looks, or what 
is worse, chilling indifference, had weaken- 
ed the tie that bound them all together. 
Was it strange that the fountain should 
" : w ? 
But his eye grew bright and his voice 
clear as he spoke to them of the near ap- 
proach of the hour when his spirit was to 
be emancipated. Xo doubts disturbed 
him, but his parting words were full of 
childlike confidence, and simple trust in 
the atoninor sacrifice of Jesus. His loftv 



64 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

mind had grown familiar with the doctrines 
of the cross ; and accustomed to sit at Je- 
sus' feet as a pardoned sinner, he knew 
in whom he had trusted, and knew that 
He would raise him from the grave in 
glory at the resurrection of the last day. 

With all the eloquence of a father's fail- 
ing voice, he urged his children to seek the 
favor of Him who would sustain them in 
all their trials, cheer them in all their de- 
spondency, but above all, would support 
and comfort them in the hour when they 
should be called to follow him into the 
grave. He took them each by the hand, 
and as they kissed it, that sweet smile 
which was all his own in its winning love- 
liness, passed over his face. He closed 
his eyes, and in a sleep as gentle and as 
peaceful as an infant's slumber, without a 
struggle, his ransomed spirit passed from 



LIVING W 

earth to the joys of Paradise, and the un- 
veiled presence of the Master he loved — 
and peace was written on every lineament 
of his face. Sustained and soothed by an 
unfaltering trust, he approached his grave, 

"Like one who wraps the drapery of his conch 
at him. and lies down to pleasant dreams." 

So died William Erenveine, a noble 
specimen of the upright merchant, the 
good citizen, the fast and sympathizing 
friend, the Christian gentleman! 

" I heard a voice from heaven, saving 
unto me. Write, from henceforth blessed 
are the dead who die in the Lord : even 
so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their 
labors." How many a crushed heart have 
these heaven-sent words sustained and 
kept from breaking — what a precious 
legacv to the dying children of men — how 
5 



00 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

full of comfort the assurance that those 
whom we have loved, as we can never 
again love anything on earth, who have 
"died in the Lord," are now resting from 
their labors in the ever fresh green fields 
of Paradise ! 

But the memory of one whose death 
was so full of hope, has led me away from 
the thoughts wherewith I commenced this 
chapter — the number of those who are 
dreaming of a heaven of their own imagin- 
ing, and who are warming themselves by 
the sparks of the fire their own hands have 
kindled. If you are one of this class of 
self-deceivers, my dear young reader, I 
know how well-nigh hopeless it is to at- 
tempt to arouse you from your fatal slum- 
ber. You are satisfied with your present 
state ; you see no cause for alarm ; you 
occasionally hear, it is true, the muttering 



LIVING WATERS. 67 

of the coming storm, but before it bursts 
you intend seeking shelter from its fury ; 
and though the Bible declares that such a 
refuge will prove a refuge of lies, you do 
not believe it. Now, I do not ask you to 
listen to me on this subject, but listen to 
the voice from heaven. 

You are an immortal being ; death is 
upon your footsteps, and, in spite of every 
care and precaution, will soon overtake 
you ; and the body, the gratification of 
whose desires is your chief care, will be 
mouldering beneath the grass ; but the 
deathless soul, where will it be ? When 
the heavens and the earth pass away with 
a great noise, and the elements are melting 
with fervent heat, it will be there, unscathed 
and unharmed, a living, breathing soul, 
active with all the energy of an enfran- 
chised, never-wearying, immortal spirit. 



68 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



When the judgment is set, and the books 
opened, and the countless throng out of 
all nations, and kindreds, and people, and 
tongues, are gathered around the great 
white throne, you will be there ; and upon 
the decisions of that day your endless 
destiny hangs. Since, then, the issues of 
that day may be, must be, determined 
now — in this present life — is it not reason- 
able and according to the dictates of com- 
mon sense and common prudence to devote 
a brief space, say even one day, to search 
the Scriptures, and in the light of them to 
examine the foundation of your hopes of 
rest and joy in the life to come ; to see 
whether there is any such heaven as you 
expect to dwell in ? and if you succeed in 
catching a glimpse of the golden-streeted 
city, and the happy mansions in which 
the souls of those who sleep in Jesus are 



LIVING WATERS. 69 

gathered, may you have grace to turn into 
the narrow way that leads thereto, the 
difficult path that leads to the Fountain 
of Living Waters. 



10 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



CHAPTER V. 



THE MIRAGE IN THE DESERT. 

There be many that say, 
" Who will show us any good ?" 
Lord ! lift thou up the light of thy countenance 
upon us ! 

Psalm iv. 6. 



But while the number is very great of 
those who have no thought reaching be- 
yond the present brief existence, many 
more there are among the sons and daugh- 
ters of Christian parents, who have received 
too much light to live in comfort without 
adopting some of the many substitutes 
which the deceitful heart is ever ready to 
embrace, in preference to the simple reli- 
gion of the cross. 



LIVING WATERS. 71 

How many there are whose lives are 
passed amid scenes of worldliness and dis- 
sipation, who find an opiate for their con- 
science in the zealous pursuit of eloquent 
preachers and their unfailing attendance on 
all those stirring occasions when Christians 
assemble to consult upon the various inter- 
ests of the church. 

Others, as fully sharing in all the follies 
and vanities of the world, and also craving 
that rest for the soul which they know the 
world cannot give, and have been told that 
religion can procure, are seeking it in the 
outward forms and ceremonies of religion, 
and in the repetition of a solemn and beau- 
tiful ritual. While the heart is moved 
by the touching music, and the imagina- 
tion for the time pleased and excited, and 
a sense of duty accomplished is experi- 
enced, there is something like satisfaction 



72 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



felt. But though it rnav be said of them 
that they are " not far from the kingdom 
of heaven/' still, how far are they from 
that calm deep peace which a close and 
humble walk with God alone can give ! 

While travelling in foreign lands, how 
fascinated have I been, how entirely my 
youthful imagination has been captivated 
by those imposing rites and ceremonies 
which there are all that the mass of the 
people know of the religion of the cross ! 

I had been strolling, one morning after 
breakfast, in the beautiful gardens of the 
" Retiri," at Madrid, among refreshing foun- 
tains, and beneath orange and almond trees, 
and was returning to the Prado, when I de- 
scried a friend in the distance. He quick- 
ened his pace when he perceived me, and 
after accosting me with his usual salutation, 
said that if I had any curiosity to see a nun 



LIVING WATERS. , 3 

take the veil, I would have an opportunity 
that morning. 

I started at the idea, it was like realizing 
a morning dream of childhood ; for I had 
pictured to myself something lovely, some- 
thing purely beautiful in a nun — a con- 
necting link between beings of this world 
and the angels of light, a guileless maiden 
bestowing the whole treasury of her affec- 
tions on her Saviour ; abandoning the joys 
and the pleasures of this beautiful world 
for the hope of a brighter one of immor- 
tality to come ! To me, at least then in 
the early morning of life, and as ignorant 
of spiritual religion as the most benighted 
Hindoo, there was romance about a con- 
vent and its gentle inmates ; and the idea 
of seeing a nun take the veil was deeply 
fascinating. 

\Ye turned off when we reached the end 




Votwi 



-±i :;> 



LIVING WAIZ-j, • O 

S : ;.nish holyday ; but when the huge door 
s thrown open, every voice was hushed, 
every smile was gone, and the solemn 
tread of many feet echoed along t\\ 
until we reached the altar, when the or- 
gan's swelling notes burst forth, and in an 
instant all were kneeling. On >ss- 

ing himself, another counting he: 
and another breathing an tc some 

favorite saml smd on looking round, I 
found that I was the only one that * 
idle. The next moment the shrill, unearth- 
ly notes of the choir, hidden far up in one 
:he nave- 3d the Drgan in the 

path of melody. 

The gilded altar, lighted up with innu- 
merable lamps, shining dimly in the golden 
light of the sun, the officiating priests, in 
their flowing robes and scarlet mar. 
printed with gilt crosses, the bovs clad in 



76 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



vestments of white, swinging the glittering 
censers to and fro, filling the convent with 
frankincense, the rich swelling melody — it 
was indeed a bewildering scene, and well 
calculated to affect and make captive the 
minds of the young and the ignorant. 

The music ceased — prayers were then 
said, and so deep was the stillness which 
followed, that the breathing of the peasant 
beside me could be heard. When these 
were finished, one of the priests struck up 
a monotonous sort of recitative, which last- 
ed about five minutes, and towards the 
conclusion he advanced to a large gilded 
grating of iron, which separates the nuns' 
chapel from the public altar. There was 
a momentary pause. He then modulated 
his tone to a deep chant, in which all the 
friars joined, their voices swelling and anon 
subsiding into a gentle murmur; then a 



LIVING WATERS. 11 

low querulous chant was commenced by 
the nuns — it gradually increased in volume, 
it grew louder and louder ; one powerful 
rending peal of the organ, and the vast 
curtain was suddenly drawn aside, and 
discovered the nuns in their chapel ; then 
arose the grand chorus — nuns, and iriars, 
and the boys, and the kneeling crowd — all 
joined in the* universal jubilate, and the 
convent seemed to shake with the torrent 
of sound and melody. 

The candidate for the veil was scarce 
sixteen. Her hair was glossy black, her 
eyes dark, her complexion fairer than that 
of the generality of Spanish ladies. She 
was crowned with a chaplet of white flow- 
ers ; in fact, she wore a bridal dress. 

By her side were arranged her friends ; 
a little dark-complexioned man proved to 
be her father ; the mother was a tall, ma- 



- fcj THE FOUNTAIN OF 

jestic looking woman, with traces of linger- 
ing beauty, and by her side stood her son, 
a tall young man. in the uniform of a 

lancer of the Royal Guards. He had an 
open, intelligent countenance, and appeared 
to be the only one present who felt for the 
poor girl : for there was a melancholy 
watching of the eye, and ever and anon 
a moving of the lips ; and I fancied I could 
read his communings with himself, and his 
bitter reflections upon a ceremony which 
could consign one so young, so full of life, 
so calculated to adorn and bless society, 
to a living tomb ! 

As the priest entered the chapel, the 
music ceased, and the young girl advanced 
to him, supported by her mother, for the 
excitement and the struggle within had 
overpowered her. The color had faded 
from her cheek, and a tear trembled in her 



LIVING W ATERS. 



79 



eve. She tottered up to the priest, who 
chanted forth a few melancholy notes, 
and gave her his blessing. The lady ab- 
bess then stepped forward and took off the 
wreath of flowers which had confined her 
hair, and her dark locks escaped and fell 
in rich luxuriance to the ground. One by 
one her ornaments were taken off, and 
placed in a box for the benefit of the con- 
vent ; the scissors were then applied to 
her hair, which strewed the pavement of 
the chapel. Then burst forth a peal of 
music, swelling higher and higher, and 
louder and louder ; it seemed as though 
the vault of the convent would burst with 
the volume of sound. It fell upon my 
ear like a shout of victory, proclaiming the 
triumph of superstition and ignorance over 
one of the loveliest specimens of the Al- 
mighty's handiwork. 



80 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

Again the music ceased, and for a few 
moments there was a silence that was op- 
pressive. The feelings of the brother du- 
ring this spell-like silence, as he gazed 
upon his young sister — still lovely, though 
shorn of every ornament — pale, trembling, 
about to give up forever the sweet horjes 
of youth, its joys and its sorrows, its loves 
and its friendships, can be imagined. 

As he stepped forward to bid her a last 
farewell, he hesitated; his eye glistened 
with moisture, his lips were for a moment 
convulsively compressed, and as he print- 
ed a kiss upon her forehead, a tear fell 
from his eye upon her cheek. It was like 
an electric touch ; her pent-up feelings she 
could no longer restrain ; she raised her 
eyes to him, swimming with tears, and 
exclaimed passionately, " Querido her- 
mano" and rushing into his arms, vented 



LI\ 


' I X G WATERS. 81 


there, in convulsive sobbings, 


the anguish 


of her heart ! 






The priest 


separated them, 


and led her 


into the centre of the chapel. 


She seemed 


to struggle to 


get the mastery 


of her feel- 



ings, clasped her hands with a nervous 
attempt at composure, slowly raised her 
head, and then sank upon the ground. 
The priest advanced, and threw over her 
a black velvet pall, interwoven with a large 
golden cross. The novices then struck up 
their querulous notes, and were soon joined 
by the shriller tones of the nuns. They 
chanted a sort of dirge, and then was 
performed the beautiful ceremony of the 
burial of the dead, which concluded with 
a low melancholy chant, when all sank 
upon their knees, and joined in at intervals. 
The pall was taken off; the abbess 
gently raised her and clothed her in the 
6 



S 2 T H E F o u y t a i y OF 

fata] veil. She :>wned once more 

h a wreatl e roses, . 

ed the "Bria 

of the organ rolled forth aga one 

and all mingled their voices in the trium- 
phant hallelujah. A small basket of fresh 
flowers was placed in '. \ hands, and sae 
walked to the grating with a slow and 
tering step 3 and distributed them to the 
bystanders who knelt there, 

When this was ended, two of her sister 
novices came up and kissed her. and then 
led her away by a dear near the a. tar. 

At the end of the chapel, as she went 
out, she cast one long, lingering look be- 
hind upon her father and 
centred in her brother, in a thrilling glance 
of devotion and love. The door inter- 
vened ; I turned to the brother, but he 
had grone. One by one the nuns glided 



LIVING WATERS, 



83 



out, like so many ghosts ; the music died 
gradually away, growing fainter, and faint- 
er, and fainter, and ceased as the last nun 
shut the door — and the chapel was left in 
sad and deathlike stillness. 

Few things during my wanderings in 
that romantic land, made such a deep im- 
pression upon me as this imposing cere- 
mony ; and down the vista of many years, 
and through a confused memorv of oror- 
geous architecture and blended light of 
lamp and sun, and strange fragrance, and 
unearthly melody, I can distinctly see that 
poor young girl, misguided by friends, un- 
conscious of the high mission of woman 
upon earth, seeking rest for her soul by 
abandoning a world she was made to live 
in and bless. 

I have related this incident, my young 
friend, as illustrative of one of the many 



84 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

ways in which the young heart, craving 
religion in some form, and casting about 
for rest somewhere, is ready to seize any- 
thing that promises to give it — anything 
sooner than the simple trust and faith of 
the gospel. 

If you then are seeking that priceless 
boon, a quiet conscience, trust not to im- 
posing rites and ceremonies, nor to an 
orthodox creed, nor to munificent alms- 
giving, or frames or feelings, or to anything 
short of entire consecration of yourself to 
the service of the Master ; repenting of the 
past, and looking for pardon through the 
atoning sacrifice of Jesus, walk in daily 
fellowship and communion with your Fa- 
ther in heaven ; and you shall have peace, 
and He will give you to drink of the Foun- 
tain of Living Waters 



LIVING WATERS. 



CHAPTER VI. 

A GLILIPS3 OF THE FOUNTAIN 

In the desert a fountain is springing, 
In the wild waste there still is a tree, 

And a bird in the solitude singing, 
Which speaks to ray spirit of thee. 

Byron. 

But I am speaking to one who has no 
sympathy with any of those self-deceivers. 
You see through those shallow devices of 
Satan. You know that the path of care 
and self-indulgence is the broad road so 
definitely pointed out by the Saviour, and 
you have no doubt as to whither it leads. 
You are seeking salvation earnestly, and 
are almost persuaded to make every sacri- 
fice to attain it. " Strait is the gate, and 



86 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

narrow is the way, that leadeth unto life," 
is written above the path, and you stand 
hesitating, glancing now at the gay and 
laughing multitude, who jostle each other 
along the broad and flowery road, and 
then at the little band who, with thought- 
ful brow and careful step are toiling 
through the less frequented, pent-up path- 
way. 

And if there is a scene on earth upon 
which the angels look down with an in- 
tense and eager gaze, around which the 
spirits of departed saints, if allowed to 
gaze upon the theatre of their former con- 
flict, linger with an interest and a solicitude 
caught from the society and fellowship 
with Jesus, and from an unveiled view of 
the glories of heaven, it is when a poor 
child of sin and death is led by the Spirit 
of God to desire deliverance from the 



LIVING WATERS. 87 

galling chains of Satan, and to make a de- 
cision which will shape the destiny for 
eternity. 

And oh, how many make shipwreck 
here ; how many have come thus far and 
looked into the peaceful haven, and waited 
just outside day after day, until the hidden 
currents of life's great sea, and adverse 
winds have swept them far away ; and they 
have gone down amidst the blackness of 
the tempest. The history of one of these 
" almost Christians " would be, with slight 
variations, the history of thousands. 

Glad-hearted, frank, intelligent, there 
were few more fascinating boys than Frank 
Allison. With the students he was a 
general favorite. He had nearly finished 
his second year, when the village where 
the college was situated was shaken to its 
centre by one of those noiseless but mighty 



88 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

visitations of the Spirit of God. which have 
blessed our country in these latter days. 
It came not, as we have said, with obser- 
vation, but it approached with a step so 
gentle and so quiet, so free from noise and 
parade, and yet there was such a full sense 
of its presence and its power, that the 
boldest scoffers in the place were awed 
into silence. 

Xone were more ready to ridicule the 
fears of the anxious, than young Allison. 
And as the little band of inquirers in- 
creased, he but laughed the louder, and 
scoffed the more. Few cases seemed more 
hopeless ; but to those who watched him 
narrowly, and oh ! how many there were 
that he knew not of, who with hearts of 
prayer and tearful eyes were watching his 
perilous ways — to those it soon became 
evident that under all his levity, his heart 



LI VI X G W A T E RS. SO 

was ill at ease. His attendance at church 
and meetings for prayer became more fre- 
quent ; he gradually began to seek the 
society of those he had shunned before, 
and no longer attempted to disguise his 
deep interest in the subject. How many 
were gladdened then ! Many a Christian 
heart beat quicker with that joy felt alone 
by God's children, and akin to that which 
we are told swells the breast of the pres- 
ence-angels when a sinner repents. 

It was one of those beautiful summer 
evenings, when the winds are laid asleep, 
not a leaf stirring, and the moon was pour- 
ing down a flood of light and glory, which 
I have sometimes thought peculiar to that 
lovely village on the banks of the Seneca. 
Xot a ripple was on the waveless lake, 
which in its silver sheen reminded the de- 
vout mind of the sea of glass, like unto 



90 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



crystal, which laves the base of the great 
white throne. 

I was walking with Frank Allison along 
the street which overlooks the lake. We 
had just been listening to the story of a 
Saviour's love ; there had been no attempt 
in the preacher to produce an effect — no 
nourishes of rhetoric, not much of u the 
enticing words of man's wisdom." It was 
little more than a sketch of the life of the 
Man of Sorrows ; and as he led you along 
with him as he traced the footprints of 
Jesus on the hills of Judea, i nd across the 
plains of Galilee, you forgot the speaker, 
and seemed to hear the very voice of the 
gentle Teacher rising above the tread of 
the following multitude : " Come unto me 
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and 
I will give you rest !" 

When the heart is filled with the Sa- 



LIVING WATERS. 91 

viour's presence, and a sense of the Sa- 
viour's love, how natural and how easy it 
is to speak of him ! 

And does not this truth afford an ex- 
planation of the melancholy fact that there 
is so little Christian communion upon earth ? 
That one should hesitate to reveal to 
others, even to a Christian brother, the 
inner life of the soul : should shrink 
from lifting off the veil from the fierce 
conflict that has marked his spiritual his- 
tory, the deadly battle with sin and Satan, 
the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows, 
which can only be poured into the sympa- 
thizing bosom of our " Elder Brother'' — 
sorrows too sacred to be bared to the com- 
mon gaze, joys which pass understanding, 
and with which it was never intended the 
stranger should intermeddle ; this is a thing 
I say I can understand, for I feel it all. 



92 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

But that those who are enlisted under 
the same banner — have the same glorious 
leader, whose smile and whose love are 
their common strength — have the same 
foes, the same conflicts, and are looking 
forward to sit down at the same board in 
the sinless and nightless city — that such 
fellow- pilgrims should have nothing to say 
by the way of their gracious leader, no- 
thing about the thrilling scenes that are 
constantly transpiring as His kingdom rolls 
onward, scenes which touch chords that 
vibrate through the courts above — nothing 
of that glorious city whose gates are pearl, 
and streets are gold — nothing of the 
gatherings within our Father- - : :;ous 
mansions — that there should be nothing of 
all this is wonderful ! It can only be ex- 
plained by the fact that the paltry pomp 
and circumstance of a world which con- 



stantly appeal to : aill the 

heart, weaken the faith, dim the spiritual 
hi, until the substantial realities of the 
: rid around ai afar off, 

s mere :.": sfi :. . tic us, powerless to move 
the heart or affect the life. Had we more 
rrience of what the Berij nder 

ing exr : — recommend as the 

communion of the saints — were these sub- 
its the love 1 fa miliar household them 
and had they a place in all our plans, and 
hopes, and fears — the path of the Chri- 
Id be luminous with ligh: h a w : uld 
armed against all the chances and 
changes which daily chequer 1 
for then he could endure all trials as seeing 
Efim wh is invisible. 

- not only t ha: there is strength in 
! know tl 
our Heavenlv Father looks down with a 



94 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

smile of peculiar approbation upon tfa 
who think upon his name, and love to talk 
together over the interests of his kingd ; 
and to such he has given one of the most 
precious promises that shines out in the 
Word of life. 

Long years ago it was, when Zion was 
sitting in the dust, and the multitude were 
saving that it was in vain to serve the 
Lord, that a few turned aside to talk about 
him. The record of the event runs thus : 
" Then they that feared the Lord spake 
often to one anotlier ; and the Lord heark- 
ened and heard it, and a book of remem- 
brance was written before him, for them 
that feared the Lord, and that thought 
upon his name." 

And now read the promise : " And they 
shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in 
that day when I make up my jewels ; and 



LIVING WATERS. 

I will spare them, as a man spareth his 
own son that serveth him." And later 
days have given us a precious illustration 
of this truth, that the Lord delights to 
visit his children when they make him the 
theme of their wayside walks, and fireside 
communication. 

Who has not lingered with a swelling 

rt about the simple narrative of that 

ntful day's walk to Emmaus, so well 

described by England's gifted and most 

gious poet '? 

[t happened on a solemn eventide. 
Soon after he that was our surety died, 

bosom friends, each pensively inclined, 
The scene of all those sorrows left behind, 
Sought their own village, busied as they went 
In m rthy of the great event ; 

They spake of Him they loved, of him whose life, 
Though blameless, had incurred perpetual strife; 
Whose deeds have left, in spite of hostile arts, 

_p memorial graven on their h. 



96 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

The recollection, like a vein of ore, 

The farther traced enriched them still the more : 

They thought him, and they justly thought him, 

one 
Sent to do more than he appeared t' have done ; 
To exalt a people and to place them high 
Above all else, and wondered he should die. 
Ere yet they brought their journey to an end, 
A stranger joined them, courteous as a friend, 
And asked them, with a kind, engaging air, 
What their affliction was, and begged to share. 
Informed, he gathered up the broken thread, 
And, truth and wisdom gracing all he said, 
Explained, illustrated, and searched so well 
The tender theme on which they chose to dwell, 
That reaching home, the night, they said, is near, 
"We must not now be parted, sojourn here. 
The new acquaintance soon became a guest, 
And, made so welcome at their simple feast, 
He blessed the bread, but vanished at the word, 
And left them both exclaiming, "Twastbe Lord ! 
Did not our hearts feel all he deigned to say ? 
Did they not burn within us on the way V 
Now theirs was converse such as it behoves 
Man to maintain, and such as God approves. 
Their views, indeed, were indistinct and dim, 
But yet successful, being aimed at him. 



LIVING WATERS. 97 

Christ and his character their only scope, 
Their object, and their subject, and their hope, 
They felt what it became them much to feel, 
And, wanting him to loose the sacred seal, 
Found him as prompt as their desire was true, 
To spread the new-born glories in their view." 

May this same gracious Master baptize his 
children everywhere with this spirit, which 
thus characterized his early disciples, that 
the communion of the saints may be some- 
thing more than a mere name. 

But to return to my moonlight walk 
with Frank Allison. The surpassing love- 
liness of the night, the perfect quiet of the 
hour, its deep stillness, unbroken even by 
the faintest whisper of a breeze or shaking 
of a leaf, were all in unison with that deep 
feeling which the recent services had 
awakened. It required no effort to con- 
tinue the subject on which the preacher 
had dwelt. Long and earnestly we talked 



98 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

together. I spoke of the strange love 
which Jesus had manifested for the lost 
and castaway — his willingness to love 
him. I showed him how false was the 
notion that gloom and sadness brooded 
over the paths of religion ; that a joy and 
peace, a peace which passeth all under- 
standing, was the atmosphere which every 
Christian might breathe, and would breathe 
so long as he strayed not from the road 
running heavenward ; that the experience 
of multitudes had proved the truth of the 
inspired declaration, " Godliness hath the 
promise of the life that now is, as well as 
that which is to come. ,, 

I spoke of the joy in heaven and the joy 
on earth — showed him that he had now 
come to the turning point in his destiny ; 
that while it is true, as Shakspeare says, 
that 



LIVING WATERS. 90 

" There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune ; 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries, 
On such a full sea are we now afloat ; 
And we must take the current when it serves, 
Or lose our ventures" — 

it is especially true in the life of the 
soul, that such moments slighted, such, 
calls unheeded, there was no reason to 
expect that such periods would ever again 
return, or such a call ever again be made ; 
that upon the decision of this hour the 
question turned — whether his future life 
was to be a blessing or a curse to his fel- 
low-men. 

He listened with a willing ear — spoke 
something of the difficulty of breaking with 
old companions ; his lip quivered — he 
turned away his face — was silent for a 
moment, and then sobbed as if his heart 



THE ¥ O H T A I B 1 7 



would break, as he :. 




of ail I had said — and thus I Lei: Lira. 




Tha: he Lad gone through a mi. 


:htv 


struggle I knew: thai cons ;ence 


was 


awake and the spirit striving, was evid 


ent : 


and I waited, with prayerful solicitude 


. the 


result. 




En^a^ed in :he duties of my p; 


ion, 


we did not meet, except to ~: 


re a 


passing word, in weeks : but wker 


did 


meet, the fearful truth was told, and I 


saw 


by the levity of Lis m and the 


[one 


of his convers:.:i:n. :Lat tLe prince 




bcss Lad w : :1 that he 


ha i 


turned his back on the path of ii^L: era 


life. 


He soon became lisgusted with 


Lis 


; : Lis 1: ; :.ks, 


and 


becoming weary of lLs i.V 


t to 


New York, as he laughingly said, to i 


e e k 


his fortune. 





LIVING WATERS. 101 

Six months ran by, and I met him 
there ; he was in the company of others, 
and he actually jeered at religion as an old 
woman's superstition. He ran a career of 
folly with startling rapidity. Low com- 
panions became his associates, the wine-cup 
his solace and bosom friend, and mortified 
at the degraded condition to which he was 
reduced, he shunned society, and under an 
assumed name shipped as a common sailor 
for the islands of the Pacific, and Frank 
Allison has never been heard of since. 

There is nothing uncommon, I grant, 
my young reader, in this story. I give it 
because it is common, an every-day tale, and 
is a simple statement of facts as they oc- 
curred a few years since. I might go on, 
and relate many a story as true and as sad. 
I might tell you of one tenderly nurtured, 
greatly beloved, who, under almost exactly 



102 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

the same circumstances, came to the same 
point, made the same decision, and whose 
sudden and dreadful end filled the land 
with horror. 

But it would be needless to multiply 
instances ; they stand out beacon-like, in 
every man's history, to show the danger 
of turning away from the voice that is 
speaking from heaven. But you believe 
in the Scriptures ; search them, and there 
you will find some of the most terrible 
warnings and denunciations, written over 
the sin of listening to the free and full 
offers of pardon and peace, and deliberate- 
ly rejecting them all. Felix and Agrippa 
have long since gone to their own place, 
but they live in the inspired page, and until 
time shall be no more, will tell with fear- 
ful emphasis of the peril of delay, and the 
ruin that awaits the almost Christian. 



LIVING W ATEKS, 



103 



CHAPTER VII. 



.HZ BRINK OF THE FOUNTAIN. HESITATING TO 
DRIJTZ. 

[nscribed above the portal, from afar 
Conspicuous, as the brightness of a st?r. 
Legible only by the light they give. 
Stand the soul-quickening words — Believe and live. 

Cowper. 



But you, my reader, have no idea of re- 
tracing your steps — you know that there 
is nothing but darkness and despair behind, 
while before you lie the green pastures of 
salvation, and the Fountain of Living Wa- 
ters gurgling up in the midst thereof. 

Yet there you stand, trembling and 
doubting-, not far from the kingdom of 
God, yet far enough to peril the life of the 



104 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

soul — your foot upon the very edge of the 
fountain, and yet you sigh and weep, and 
say I cannot drink. You have waited long 
for some mysterious change, and it comes 
not, and you cast about for the reason, and 
having read much of the anguish of spirit 
and the agony of tears others have passed 
through to get to Jesus, you fancy you 
must pass by the same way, and go 
through the same experience. 

Now I know that Bunyan, in that beau- 
tiful allegory which has been read by 
thousands with tears, and has guided mul- 
titudes to the shining city, has placed the 
" Slough of Despond" at the entrance to 
the path that leads thither ; but if that 
holy man meant to show thereby that the 
only or the usual way into the kingdom 
of heaven was through these depths of 
gloom and despondency, he has made 



LIVING WATERS. 105 

the entrance narrower than our Saviour 
made it. 

It is true that there is but one road, and 
that so well defined, so carefully pointed 
out by way marks, that the wayfaring man 
though a fool, need not err therein. But 
the methods employed by God to bring 
the sinner into that path are as various as 
the multiform modes of operations in na- 
ture. 

" The wind bloweth where it listeth, and 
thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst 
not tell whence it cometh, and whither it 
goeth : so is every one that is born of the 
Spirit." 

It is the same wind that in the summer 
breeze sighs softly through the valley, 
lingers in every shady nook and falls asleep 
upon a fragrant bed of flowers — the same 
that, with quicker pace and rougher feet, 



106 i :-: z r : o ettaih of 

breaks the mirror of the ike, leaps 

over the mountain-tops md i ins laughing 
through the forest-frees— the same thai 
sweepe with a cry ness yv& hill and 

dale, rending and crashing its frantic way- 
through the -_-. lining forest, and, flinging 
out upon the -; ; :r ;: waters, lashes them 
into fury, and s::iries tenor into the heart 
of the tempest-driven mariner. 

So b operati: le Spirit. 

He leads some through waters, 

and , tempest-toss* n i g h at 

their wits end ; they wrestle long with the 
powers of darkness, 'bright 

and mo:: r' ? rises a' 2 storm- 

cloud to cheer and to guide them. 

But others, and fa : th Scri 
serration show that : the most nu- 

merous, he wi = gentle voice ; draws 

them by the ::" Jesus, and allures 



LIVING- WATERS. 10T 

them by the golden visions of the new 
Jerusalem. 

Now perhaps you have wept long and 
much, and when you think of these things 
you weep still ; but yet no light breaks in, 
and your soul thus disquieted within you, 
with folded hands you are sighing for the 
hour when the Slough of Despond shall be 
crossed, you are waiting for the glad mo- 
ment when some favorable breath of the 
Spirit shall waft you over. 

Did He, my young friend, who gave the 
invitation, " Come unto me all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest," limit the call by adding, " after so 
many days and nights of weeping, after 
such a measure of mental anxiety and 
heart-bitterness ?" 

As the despised tax-gatherer sat collect- 
ing the tolls on the ^oods landing in the 



108 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

harbor of Capernaum, Jesus passed by, 
and looking upon Matthew, said : " Follow 
me ;" and what says the record — that the 
publican asked time to prepare to come ? 
It runs thus : " And he arose, and followed 
him.' 7 And so the two fishermen who were 
casting their nets in the sea, looked up, and 
saw the Lord walking along the shore, and 
to them he called, " Follow me, and I will 
make you fishers of men ;" and mark 
what followed. " And they straightway 
left their nets, and followed him." Is 
there any mystery about this ? They 
were poor ignorant men, full of prejudice 
and wrong notions, but honest-hearted and 
convinced that he who spake had a right 
to be obeyed. They did the one thing ne- 
cessary ; they arose, and followed the Mas- 
ter. 

And the gospel now is the same that it 



LIVING WATERS. 109 

was then — the way of salvation the same ; 
the command of the Son of man the same, 
Go and do likewise — arise and follow Je- 
sus — sit down no longer and count your 
tears, and wait until you are more fit to 
come. More fit! you may sit until your 
summons to appear before the throne of 
judgment comes, if you are waiting until 
you feel more, until your heart is less sin- 
ful — if that is the warrant you want. 

The more you look within, if the Lord has 
mercy upon you, the deeper depths of ini- 
quity you will discover, and the less of that 
kind of meetness which you fancy will make 
you welcome will you find. But if this 
look within will convince you that you are 
a lost, undone sinner, deserving the wrath 
of one upon whose love you have trampled, 
and that you can have no hope of escape 
save through the unmerited mercy of God, 



110 THE F N 7 A I N 


: f 




exhibited in : se of his 


dear S 


on — 


if it will drive y 


refuse 


. the 


::-:ss — i: vrill ::;: 


be in 


va::: 


that you have looked into your 


d heart. 


As I have said before, :':. 


is n:< raea- 


sure of sorrow and mental distress 


laid 


down in the Bible, short of which 


God 


will not pardon. Go to C 


::ess:::^ 


j » ■ j 


■ 


nem. 


ai sons, determined :; to] 


sate 1 


anxious ::• give them up. seek 


: :: _' E 3 


rdon 


for them. and. as has I een 




Lere 


is not an ml ioing w 




- not 


rise from his knees thai 




::.ei 


sin::: by th 


a : me: 


:i:ul 


and compass: :::a:e Redeemer 




has 


even now, as he ever fa 




• on 


earth to forgive sin. J ' 






And it is undoubtedly : 


as thi 


sad- 


mirable writ that" it 


is most 


tre- 


quently by holding out against 




. 1 E l s 



LIVING WATERS. Ill 

of this forgiveness and the strivings of His 

spirit, that men work for themselves those 
pangs, and that extreme of wretchedness 
which, although many true children of God 
unquestionably have experienced, many, 
whose adoption is equally unquestionable, 
have entirely escaped." 

And I would repeat, on this important 
point, that though a sense of sin and some 
view oi his castaway state is necessary to 
lead a sinner to apply to the Saviour, still 
this, however deeply felt, is not a qualifi- 
cation warranting him to fly to this covert 
from the storm ; no particular degree of 
conviction and alarm is a prerequisite. 

Whether the measure of conviction be 
great or small, as has been remarked, or 
whether it be only a feeling of unhappiness 
and sorrow, which, though easily con- 
ceived, may not be easily expressed — yet 



112 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

if the sinner be led to go to Jesus, it is 
enough. 

You will not suppose from anything I 
have said, that I would remove sincere 
repentance out of the narrow way, but I 
would place it where the word of God 
places it ; we cannot sorrow after a godly 
sort unless we look on him whom we have 
pierced by our stout-hearted rebellion and 
base ingratitude. Peter denied his Lord 
with an oath, and none can tell the harrow- 
ing thoughts that wrestled with his heart 
after this mournful fall — the agony of that 
long hour as he sat warming himself in 
the high-priest's house. But when, after 
another denial, the cock crew, and, con- 
science-struck, his eye sought the place 
where the Lord stood surrounded by his 
enemies ; as his gracious Master turned 
and looked upon him, his heart was melted, 



LIVING WAT1 11 3 

and he went out and wept bitterly. That 
was true repentance — such unfeigned sor- 
row as every true child of God will feel, 
when by faith he gets some clear view of 
jwn worthlessness, and the surpassing 
T esus, which he has all his life long 
trampled under his fee 

But I hear a re. ■ long 

ired to join the ranks of those wi 
faces are heavenward, and I have prayed 
much, and rind, as yet, none of that sur- 
passing joy and peace of which Christians 
:.k. 

But m to forget that this is 

portion of those who not only desire to be, 

but actually are, the children of God — 

se who have actually come out on the 

Lord's side. Have you, my dear reader, 

.- this '? You have not, you say. W 
then, for you it is, that you ha? ind 



114 i h z f o r >~ t a i x ; y 

peace; for there is no condition of the 

undying soul more perilous, than that 

-"1:— reecf is ::uii In ^ •:■:■•£ res lives. 
eiy.-iirs: if sires. ;.;::i :re:;uer:: ::r;,T r rs. :r in 
?.vr:':/::. t :■•: - .;' ::: kin^iirr: :•:' iiriven. 

every false here ::..". refuse :: lies shall It 
s e w y . and " scattered as the stubble 
•;—::. :-,~it :;t ;1: -;:;". ;: :lie -v-ilier- 
ness," none will be more terrible than the 
a ";.!:;:'_ :: :1::st ~'i: liJLve filler, asleer 

h their foot just on the threshold, their 
hand just on the door of heaven, its rap- 

jus melody falling on the ear, its 
St. :.":!.: : ^i:ries f;:.:i;:;^ :lif ee, ana :hey 
fancying themselves within, until the with- 
ering repulse, " Depart, ye cursed, I never 
knew yon," convinces them that they are 
: at 

and peace are to be coveted, for 



L I V I X G WATERS. 115 

they are the Christian's strength, and they 
are the true atmosphere of the path 
life: but thei h Ex static 

frames and feelings, unutterable and beau- 
tiful visions, may be the daily history of the 
soul — pilgrimages may be taken, long and 
me rivers of tears be shed, yet they 
will not place you one step farther off from 
lake :: fire. It is " i s* to 

Christ" that is saved. 

Should my :t.: ; foi r^er flow, 
She .1 1 my seal no languor know, 
T_:s for sin could not atone. 
Thou must save, and thou alone ; 
In my hand no price I bring. 
Simply to thy cross I clu 

Much I have heard and read, you say, of 
the simplicity of the way of Salvation — so 
plain, they tell me, that a child may find 
it : " Only follow Christ, and 1 own 

i with an unfading crown in the para- 



116 THE FOUI1 --- I H F 

dise above." Now, had Hived over there 
in Palestine a fei hen 

the Son :: Man walked there — could I 
have stood by him when he worked his 
miracles and heard him speak, as nevei 
man spake, looked into his pitying eye, 
and heard his compass; : n ite voice, I would 
have followed him night and lay, no wea- 
riness would have hindered, no neglect 
have repulsed me — not even :he sorrowful 
scenes : Gethsemane, nor the thrilling 
events ::' Golgotha, would have driven me 
away. 

Now this is all very natural, and I doubt 
whether there is a followei : Jesus who 
has not experienced it I was passing 
trough Union Square oof long since; it 
;mer afternoon, and 
above the song of the birds and : 
tling of plash of the 



LIVING WATERS. 117 

il fountain, arc song of chil- 

dren, who in row afte encircled the 

mtain. With their many-colored dress- 
and flying banners, this cratherincr of 
ing and happy fac ely sight 

to look upon, and I stopped to listen to 
their song — every Sabbath-school child 
can sine it. but it may be new to yon : 



■ I think when I read that :~r-: story of old, 
sua was here among :. 

Hovr fold, 

should like f have . eeo ~ith him then 

I wish thai h _ ; ban n placed on my b 

That his arm had n around : 

And then I might have seen his kind L ok when 
he said, 
1 Let the little ones come unto me.' 

footstool in prayer I may 
And ask for a share in his 1c 
And if II r^k him be] 

I shall see him and hear him abo 



118 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



In that beautiful place he is gone to prepare 
For all who are washed and forgiven 

And many dear children are gathering there, 
' For of such is the kingdom of heaven.' " 



As I have said, the desire is natural, 
and when we do not make of it an excuse 
for keeping away from Jesus, is innocent, 
though many doubtless deceive themselves 
in supposing that though they are not his 
disciples now, they would have been had 
they lived when he lived upon earth. 
Have you forgotten Thomas ? He had 
been a witness of his wonderful works, and 
was acquainted with his promise, that after 
three days he would arise from the grave ; 
and when told by his friends that they had 
seen him, he refused to believe until he 
had seen in his hands the prints of the 
nails, and put his finger in the prints of 
the nails, and thrust his hand in his wound- 






LIVING WATERS. 119 

ed side — and the Lord, with a condescen- 
sion, oh, how wonderful ! gratified his 
wish, but added those memorable words, 
to trie solace of his followers in all future 
time : " Thomas, because thou hast seen 
me, thou hast believed ; blessed are they 
that have not seen, and yet have belie 

And more than this, the night before 
he died, he told his sorrowing disciples 
that it was expedient for them that he 
should go away, that he might send the 
Comforter, not only to enlighten and guide 
and comfort them, but every true disciple 
until the trumpet sounds. And now, 
wherever and whenever the child of sin 
and sorrow bends the knee to him in peni- 
tent, believing prayer, the poorest outcast 
though he be, there the sin-forgiving Jesus 
is — Jesus of Nazareth — not the Jesus of 
myth and allegory, a metaphysical abstrac- 



120 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

tion — a far-off sometliiiio: which the mind 
cannot grasp — but a present God — the Je- 
sus of fact and history — the sanir lesus 
that walked the earth — his heart as full 
of love, his breast as full of compassion — 
his tenderness as deep as when he prom- 
ised, " Him that cometh to me I will in 
no wise cast out." 

You have read the story of his life — you 
have seen that he is the very Saviour you 
need — you think you desire to enter his 
service, and to live to please him, and I am 
unwilling to believe you insincere. There 
is something so ingenuous and frank about 
the heart of the young ! it requires years 
of training, in a false and falsehood -lev; m 
world, before they are willing to deceive 
themselves. 

And yet there is something very incon- 
sistent in your present position — you s 



LIVING WATERS. 121 

you desire to please him who has pur- 
chased heaven for you at the sacrifice of 
himself, and yet you have not taken one 
step for that purpose — not one single step. 
Do you yet plead, you know not what 
to do ? He says : u Whosoever shall con- 
fess me before men, him shall the Son of 
man also confess before the angels of God" 
Here you have a direction accompanied by 
a precious promise. Is there any dark 
and hidden mystery in this ? like a response 
of the Delphic oracle, is it hard to be un- 
ravelled ? How are you to confess him ? 
Why, in the same way in which the early 
disciples did. " They that gladly received 
his word were baptized". But perhaps 
you were consecrated to God, in the rite 
of baptism, in your infancy — go. then, be- 
fore the Church, and in the presence of 
God and his people, in any way prescribed 



122 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



by that branch of it you may elect to join, 
renounce the world and the service of 

Satan, and consecrate yourself for time 
and for eternity to the service of our bless- 
ed Master. 

In the night in which he was betrayed, 
he instituted a feast, which he enjoined his 
followers to keep in memory of his dying 
love, until his coming again. Obey the 
command — you surely can do this. He 
only asks that you come with a broken 
and contrite heart — in childlike simplicity 
and faith, and in thus confessing- him you 
will find a present reward — "the peace 
that passeth all understanding." 

Remember the fishermen of Galilee ! 
Straightway they arose — left their nets, 
and followed him. Again I say, Go and 
do likewise. Hesitate no longer on the 
brink of the fountain — looking into its pure 



l : v : >- > v a . z :. - . 123 

lis will nc ach your 

thirst — panting foi its sool with 

your lips will 

not the fainting son] 

only will be revived. 

thus saith the Lord : 

•• Whose 3vei . that 

I shall give him. shall never thirst : but 
the water that 1 shall give him shall be in 
him a well of water springing up into ever- 



124 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



CHAPTER VIII. 



THE FOn^TAI^T OF LIVING WATERS. 



" O ye that fain would find the joy, 
The only one that wants alloy — 
Which never is deceiving ; 
Come to the Well of Life with me. 
And drink, as it is proffered, free, 
The gospel draught receiving. 

M'Cheyne. 

Welcome, my dear young friend, to the 
joys and sorrows, the glorious hopes and 
exalting promises — the heritage of those 
who are folio wins: the Lamb. With a love 
which has the stamp of immortality upon 
it, I take you to my heart ; for though I 
may never have crossed your path, and 
we may never meet till together we pluck 



LIVING WATERS. 125 

the flowers that are blooming in the para- 
dise above, I love yon, whoever and 
wherever you may be, with an earnest 
brother's love, because you are carrying 
the cross, and wear the lineaments, and 
breathe the spirit of our blessed Master. 
Was the half told you ? You knew that 
cares would be lightened, the clouds of 
sorrow tino-ed with light, the troubled 
conscience at rest, the unsettled mind 
calmed into quiet, and the sin-fettered 
spirit freed. But how far beyond all this, 
that deep unruffled peace which passeth 
all understanding ! How much freer than 
you thought, " the glorious liberty of the 
sons of God" — and the strange paradox 
of the apostle, "sorrowing yet always re- 
joicing !" How completely your experi- 
ence has solved it, when in time of trouble 
you have lingered about the mercy-seat, 



126 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

until you have caught a glimpse of the 
reconciled countenance which transmutes 
everything into gold — and the precious 
assurance, " all things work together for 
good to them that love God," fell like 
music upon your ear ! 

How impossible it is for you to describe 
those blissful hours, when with hope in 
the heart, and with the steadfast eye of a 
living faith, you have looked over the " in- 
heritance incorruptible and un defiled, and 
that fadeth not away !" . How faint is the 
picture > even when delineated by one whose 
writings show that he drinks deep of the 
Fountain of Living Waters ! 

" Looking forward to the pearly gates 
and golden streets of the celestial city, its 
love-built mansions and its life- watered 
paradise, the believer in Jesus delights to 
remember that they are purely the pur- 



LIVING W A T EKS. 127 

chase, and as purely the gift of Immanuel. 
To think that he shall yet have his happy 
home on that Mount Zion ; that with feet 
no longer sin- defiled he shall tread its ra- 
diant pavement, and stand on its glassy 
sea : that with fingers no longer awkward 
he shall tell the harps of heaven what once 
he was, and who made him what he is ; 
that with a voice no longer trembling he 
shall transmit along the echoes of eternity 
the song of Moses and the Lamb ; that his 
shall yet be a brow on which the drops of 
toil will never burst, and an eye which 
tears will never dim ; that he himself shall 
wear a form that years shall never bend, 
and a countenance which grief can never 
mar ; that his shall yet be a character on 
which the storms of time will leave no 
trace, and his a conscience pure enough to 
reflect the full image of Him who sits upon 



I - : 7 7: 7 7 " "77 L : 7 

::.t :hr :■::•? — :1:7 ::.::_::.: :■: ill :i:$ : ; 

:::: :— :: :'l7 z:~rii,i :•:' 1 : Tlnr^ ;i;.:^1.:^ 
that hi e boars raise the be- 

l'.r--r: ■.": :"t :~L7 :•:•:: ; :n 77:77= :: :7::_ ' 

E 11 - ; tt 7 vitll^ :77 7 full :: sa. 777775 
looking up at me, and a young leader ex- 
claims : " Oh that it were thus with me! 

7-177 1 :^1:7"7 :77; 1 1. ."r t7:7:^7 77:7 

7 : life — at least I folly intended 

I openly, and in the presence 

7 Bounced the devil and all 

~ :-r i75 . : 7 

world, with all covetous desires of the same, 

and the sinful desires of the flesh, and 

7: - :: ::!".:- :;: .- 1 ": - \ _,- 
1 - - . 

_ .:-. ::::.-. 11 - : v 7 777 iriri :: 1:11:- l.;- 
through good and through evil report, but 



liyib :- w a i e 129 

e at times had a 

t had s : me peace and 
.ristian life is rather char- 
ged by gloom, and ft 
hopes ; and when I read the lives of ti 
whose peace has flowed as a ri I :her 
doubt t. ::pleship. w 

'. 
snf matter-of-fact _r attaining 
;n a stature., and having sc much of the 
pilgrim air a em. 

Kbw, m~ ing friend, in your idea of 

looked all the analo^ he Bible, and 

2 hi of those graphic delineations 

of : u have 

[awning 

h a faint and 

struggling with the darkn orooding 

over the ear: to gain strength, 

9 



130 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

and scattering the clouds, melts them into 
golden summer islands — -then burnishes the 
distant mountain-top, and hill, and valley, 
until the full blaze of its glory glad- 
dens every spot. Just so, say the Scrip- 
tures, is the Christian course — not full day 
at once — but " the path of the just is as 
the shining light, that shineth more and 
more, unto the perfect day." 

Do you remember those beautiful lines 
on the subject written by the sweet psalm- 
ist of modern Israel — lines which, as has 
been remarked, though written for the in- 
fant mind, are worthy the perusal of 
angels ? 



11 How fine has the day been, how bright was the 

sun, 
How lovely and joyful the course that he run ; 
Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun, 
And there followed some droppings of rain ! 



LIVING WATERS. 131 

But now the fair traveller's come to the west, 
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best ; 
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest, 
And foretells a bright rising again. 

Just such is the Christian — his course he begins, 
Like the sun in a mist, while he mourns for his 

sins, 
And melts into tears; then he breaks out and 
shines, 

And travels his heavenly way : 
But when he comes nearer to finish his race, 
Like a fine setting sun, he looks richer in grace, 
And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days, 

Of rising in brighter array." 

Now, you are expecting to enjoy at the 
commencement of the Christian day the 
light which illumines its noon — the free- 
dom from doubts and fears, the settled 
assurance of those who have long loved 
and closely followed the Saviour,, made 
trial of his faithfulness, and had much 
sweet experience of the truth of his prom- 



132 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

ises. It is true that St. Paul could look 
up and beyond the limits of natural vision, 
and exultingly say, not I hope or trust, but 
" there is laid up for me a crown of right- 
eousness, which the Lord, the righteous 
judge, shall give me at that day." But 
when was his soul sustained by this calm 
confidence ? It was when he was ready 
to be offered, and the time of his depar- 
ture was at hand. It was when he could 
say, " I have fought a good fight, I have 
finished my course, I have kept the faith." 
We do not mean to say that the apostle 
had not always much of this confidence — 
from the time when near Damascus, the 
light from heaven flashed across his path- 
way, and dazzled and amazed, he fell upon 
the earth, and heard that voice saying, 
" Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me ?" — 
from that hour when melted into penitence 



LIVING- WATERS. 133 

by that voice of reproachful tenderness, 
he cried and said : " Lord, what wilt thou 
have me to do ?" The Lord Jesus was 
no mere abstraction to him — he had seen 
him, had talked with him, and walked in 
unbroken fellowship with him ever after, 
and loved him with all the self-sacrificing 
devo : ... . a noble soul. For him hence- 
forth to live was Christ. His aim was 
single — it was the glory of his master ; 
there was no faltering — no looking back ; 
"forgetting the things that were behind, 
reaching forth unto those that were before, 
pressing towards the mark," was the char- 
acter of his daily life, and thus walking 
in the very footprints of his much-loved 
Master, though he had much to grieve, 
perplex, and sadden him, he could say, 
" Always rejoicing." 

But it was when the conflict was over, 



134 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

and his mission on earth was accomplished, 
his body chained down in a Roman dun- 
geon, and a death of torture awaiting him ; 
it was then, as he caught a glimpse of the 
unveiling face of the Master he so much 
loved, that he could calmly say : " I am 
now ready to be offered, and the time of 
my departure is at hand. Henceforth 
there is laid' up for me a crown of righteous- 
ness ! ,? 

If you were going a long journey, and 
had a priceless treasure you were obliged 
to leave behind ; your quiet and your com- 
fort in your absence, and your assurance 
that you would find it safe on your return, 
would mainly depend upon your acquaint- 
ance with and confidence in the person, to 
whom you had committed so great a trust. 

So is it with the Christian. Knowing 
that the latter days of the earth are wear- 



LIVING WATERS. 135 

ing away, and that amid the wreck of 
worlds his deathless soul will be there, he 
can look with an unblenching eye upon its 
revelations, and confidently await the issue, 
in measure as he is acquainted with Him 
to whom he has committed his interests, 
and his trust in His truthfulness and love. 
And this fellowship with Jesus all may en- 
joy — the humblest child of earth by faith 
and prayer may walk daily with him ; 
though scorned and trampled upon by his 
fellow-men, the Lord of all will not repulse 
him, but admit to sweet companionship ; 
and thus walking, he will be able to say 
with the apostle : " I know whom I have 
believed, and am persvaded that he is able 
to keep that which I have committed unto 
him against that day." 

But while some young disciples of our 
Lord are heavy of heart, because they 



136 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

have not that unclouded hope which is the 
fruit of experience, there are many more 
whose want of joy arises from the entirely 
erroneous view they have entertained of 
the Christian life. They supposed that, 
having made a profession of religion, they 
had only to sit still, within the sacred en- 
closure of the church, in the midst of its 
green pastures, and that its living streams 
would come unsought to lave the thirsting 
lips, and the hidden manna be gathered 
without a care or effort. True, this did 
not harmonize with those numerous repre- 
sentations of it as a race, a conflict, an 
arduous warfare ; but these expressions 
were figurative, and had no particular 
reference to the present times. 

Commencing their discipleship with 
such views of the service in which they 
had enlisted, is it astonishing that they 



LIVING WATERS. 137 

should have made no advancement — that 
they should have dwindled away into spir- 
itual dwarrlshness, unblessed with the com- 
forts of the diligent servant, diffusing no 
light about them, and giving to the world 
no evidences of their hio-h calling, save the 
punctual observance of the outward rites 
of religion ? 

o 

Now, my young friend, if you are one of 

that large number who have taken no 
step since the first, which introduced you 
into the vineyard of the Master — if you 
have been standing all the day idle, have 
known nothing of the conflict or the vic- 
tory, you have a reason for your present 
joyless state — there may be spiritual life 
under such circumstances, as there is life in 
the infant, but its powers and its capacities 
all undeveloped, and very unlike the breath- 
ing glorious activity and energy of manhood. 



138 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



You were enlisted by the leader of the 
" sacramental host of God's elect " to en- 
dure hardness as a good soldier, to do 
battle with spiritual foes well skilled in the 
warfare, and who, by their prowess, have 
slain men of renown. You have a corrupt 
heart within to subdue — temptations with- 
out to resist — there are sinners to be saved, 
poor to be succored, ignorant to be taught, 
mourners to be comforted, weak saints to 
be strengthened, a whole world to be re- 
claimed and led back to their allegiance to 
Him who died to save a lost world. 

This, my young Christian friend, this is 
your mission. Could a higher one be al- 
lotted you here below ? Is there not 
in the work that which should arouse every 
energy, fire every heart, and nerve every 
arm ? And can you not see wisdom in 
the arrangement which makes a life of 



LIVING WATERS. 139 

self-denying toil and unwearied effort, to 
make better and save one fellow-man, the 
life of peace and spiritual joy — and the 
verv trials and struggles which are the 
portion of God's children, the means of 
developing and bringing to full manhood 
the Christian character. How beautifully 
has this thought been expressed by one 
whose poetry is always fresh and true ! 

" So thou, man, of a noble soul, 

Starting in view of a glorious goal, 

Wert thou never exposed to the blasts forlorn — 

The storms of sorrow — the sleets of scorn — 

Wert thou never refined in pitiless fire, 

From the dross of thy sloth, and mean desire ; 

Wert thou never taught to feel and know 

That the truest love has its roots in woe, 

Thou wouldst never unravel the complex plan, 

Or reach half way to the perfect man ; 

Thou wouldst never attain the tranquil height 

Where wisdom purifies the sight, 

And God unfolds to the humble gaze 

The bliss and beauty of his ways." 



no 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



A fatal error of the young disciple, as 
we have remarked, is to commence a relig- 
ious life with a very inadequate notion of 
its trials, a very confused conception of its 
duties, and wretchedly low views of its at- 
tainments. 

Their standard is taken from the meagre 
cold Christianity around them — and where 
is the earnest pilgrim that has not been 
saddened at the present aspect of the 
army of the faithful ? Straggling from the 
ranks, there is one who has gone down 
into the world, and in its mad scramble 
for wealth none more eager than he ; the 
girdle of truth about his loins has been 
loosened in the dailv strife of men, and his 
" breastplate of righteousness'' has fallen 
off, and his hopes have waned, and the 
smile of peace has been chased away by 
the hard look of wordlv care ; who would 



LIVING WATERS. 141 

believe him to be what he calls himself, 
one of the pilgrim band ? 

Here is another who is hot in the pur- 
suit after place and power, using every art 
to count the popular vote, and in that race 
the helmet of salvation which he once wore 
is laid aside, and his feet, no longer " shod 
with the preparation of the gospel of peace, 
are lacerated and torn — now and then he 
looks around for his neglected helmet, half 
terrified to find how much exposed he is, 
and how far from the ranks he has gone ; 
but the gilded mark shines just before him, 
and on he goes reaching and grasping and 
grasping — and yet a professed follower of 
one who, when upon earth, had not where 
to lay his head. 

And there goes yet another with moist- 
ened brow and straining nerve, his flash- 
ing eye fixed upon the glittering bubble 



142 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



reputation. Though charmed by the mu- 
sic of Fame's brazen trumpet, he is startled 
now and then, and casts a look behind as 
a strain of the sweet songs of Zion falls 
upon his ear ; and as he rises higher and 
higher up the dangerous steep, and the 
darts of the enemy fly thick upon him, he 
falters and casts about for his shield, the 
glorious " Shield of Faith," wherewith in 
<ather days he had always been able to 
quench all the fiery darts of the wicked — 
where is it now in the time of need ? far 
behind in the dust, shattered and broken, 
of little avail to him who, in pursuit of a 
phantom, is exposing himself defenseless 
to the rage and the subtle arts of the 
enemy. 

Others — but it is useless to describe 
them — how few are there who, in obedi- 
ence to the commands of their great Cap- 



LIVING WATERS. 143 

tain, are engaged in this contest with " the 
rulers of the darkness of this world," with 
the whole armor of God upon them — and 
how has this strange appearance of the 
Christian hosts stasrsrered and hindered 
the young disciple ; and when struck with 
the strange contrast between this, and the 
glowing description of primitive Christiani- 
ty which breathes through the inspired 
pages of St. Luke, the attempt has been 
made to satisfy them and reconcile the 
strange incongruity by the remark, " We 
live in very different times, and should be 
thought as mad did we imitate their all- 
absorbing zeal, as if we should adopt their 
plan of having all things in common." 

Now, though the world might deem 
us insane if we followed closely in the 
footprints of the early Christians, showing 
by our daily life that we felt as pilgrims 



144 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

and sojourners here, who were looking for 
another and a better country ; the highest 
wisdom, and the honest voice of every 
truly regenerate heart, would commend the 
course. 

And that such a self-sacrificing, pilgrim- 
like holy life may be lived in these latter 
days — -that in the midst of the hurry and 
excitement, and seducing influences which 
characterize our age, a disciple of Christ 
may keep his hopes as bright, and his faith 
as strong, and have his peace flowing as 
deeply as in primitive times, we know. We 
have seen it illustrated in some whom we 
have loved, and who have gone to their 
reward. We have seen it in one who is 
still struggling in this vale of tears, and a 
few incidents of whose life may explain 
what we mean when we urge the necessity 
of apostolic walking to have apostolic peace. 



LIVING WATERS. 145 

How through the dim vista of many years 
scenes long forgotten will rise up, with all 
the vividness and freshness of events that 
have just left their footprints upon the 
sands of time ; not by any effort of the 
mind, but conjured up we scarce know 
why. 

Yes — there sits young Sutherland, with 
his lofty forehead, and his flashing eye, and 
winning smile, his hand upon the helm of 
the boat, guiding her as we pulled with 
shouts of boyish fun along the shores of 
old Crow Nest. 

With what earnest eyes we used to try 
to penetrate the dark gorges that reach 
far into the heart of the mountains there, 
and which our boyish fancies, aided by 
neighborhood traditions of hair-breadth 
escapes from prowling bears, infesting the 
spot peopled with we knew not what — 
10 



146 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



and then, as the moon arose and poured 
her shadowy light upon hill and dale, 
whitening the sail of many a vessel as it 
drifted through the gorge of the Highlands, 
and the music from West Point swelled 
and died away upon the breeze, and as we 
paddled along far into the night, the sol- 
emn hush only broken by the cry of the 
katy-did, or the sad plaint of " wailing 
whippoorwill" — -how lovely it was, and how 
truthfully painted by one of the sweetest 
of our native poets : 

"Tis the middle watch of a summer's night, 

The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright ; 

Nought is seen in the vault on high, 

But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky, 

And the flood that rolls its milky hue, 

A river of white in the welkin blue — 

The moon looks down on old Crow Nest, 

She mellows the shade on his shaggy breast, 

And seems his huge gray form to know, 

In a silvery cone on the wave below ; 



LIVING W ATERS. 



14i 



His sides are broken by spots of shade. 

Bv th 1 the cedar made ; 

While through a dark 

Glimmers and dies the fire-fly's spark, 

Like starry twinkles that momently break 

Through the rift of the gathering tempest rack. 

The stars are on the moving stream. 

And fling as its ripples gently flow, 

A burnished length of wavy beam. 

In an eel-like spiral line 1: i 

The winds are whist and the owl is still. 

The bat in the shelvv rock is hid, 

And naught is heard on the lonely hill. 

Bu r the cricket-chirp and the answer shrill 

Of the ganze-wii 

And the plaints of the wailing whippoorwill ; 

Who mourns unseen, and ceaseless sings, 

Ever a note of wail and w 

Till morning spreads her rosy wings, 

And earth and skies in her glances glow. 

I have sat on the banks of the Guadal- 
quiver. so famed in Spanish song and story ; 
when the moon was sleeping there, I have 
walked and mused where she was looking 
into the dark flowing Ta^us ; and have 



148 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

seen her silver light bathing the bosom of 
the sweet flowing Avon, where Shakspeare 
tuned his harp ; and where she looked 
down upon other fair and fairy spots of 
earth, but it always seemed to me that 
this was the fairest spot of them all. 

"Oh how oft 
In darkness and amid the many shapes 
Of joyless daylight, when the fretful star 
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, 
Has hung upon the beatings of my heart, 
How oft, in spirit have I turned to thee — 

dear to me because of thine own surpass- 
ing loveliness, but more dear because asso- 
ciated with boyish holydays, and golden 
day-dreams, and night-visions, and early 
friendships, and the cherished memory of 
Richard Sutherland. 

As we have hinted, he was a boy of 
winning countenance, and his mind, though 



LIVING WATERS. 149 

much enfeebled by habits of day dreaming, 
was of a high order. He entered one of 
our eastern colleges, where he won the 
name of a good scholar, and graduated 
with honor. 

His companions, like himself, grew up 
in almost total ignorance of religion, and 
they began to evince their manhood in the 
silly way not uncommon with young men, 
by speaking of its claims with levity, until 
they grew bold enough, and as they fan- 
cied, manly enough, to profess themselves 
sceptics. 

Not that they disbelieved the evidences 
of our faith — for of these they knew no- 
thing — and probably not one of them had 
read anything on the subject, or ever 
looked into the revelation which has come 
down from heaven. But then they knew 
about as much as most free-thinkers know. 



150 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

I will not attempt to trace the career of 
folly young Sutherland ran. He entered 
into business, and for a time was prosper- 
ous ; but in one of those sudden reverses 
of trade which have so frequently con- 
vulsed our country, in a moment every- 
thing was swept away, and he became 
bankrupt. 

His visions of affluence thus scattered, 
sick at heart, he turned away from the 
world, and went to spend the summer 
among the haunts of his boyhood. He 
and with him a small pocket bible, a gift 
of other days, and as, in his present mood, 
he felt no interest in those works of light 
literature which had always been his 
amusement, he was led, he scarce knew 
why, to take this Bible with him in his 
long strolls among the hills about West 
Point. 



LIVING W A TEB6. 151 

He would lie for hours in some shady 
nook, looking out upon the river in its 
noiseless course, and listlessly turning over 
the pages of the Book of Life. But gradu- 
ally his interest deepened as his fancy was 
caught by the glowing imagery of the rapt 
visions of Isaiah, or his heart touched by 
the tender strains of the sweet Psalmist 
of Israel, or his soul moved by the affect- 
ing story of his Saviour's love. 

I need not follow him through the vari- 
ous struggles with his doubts and fears — 
the conflict with a proud heart before he 
was brought to sit, as a little child, at Je- 
sus' feet was long and severe, and he 
had many a heavy and distressing trudge 
through the Slough of Despond, which, as 
we have before said, man's rebellious heart 
and not God, has put in the way to recon- 
ciliation and peace. 



lo- i h z f o r.>" i a : >" ■: z 

light same at last, and his fetters 

were thrown cz— arm zavirm m; a 
glimpse cf the glorious ricr.es of :he cos- 
pel, ii became :he zac absorb^ desire :: 
bear: :: maraih i: :: mhers. He did 
no: think, as is :: : c:mz 



converts. :ba: :be ministry was 


:he 


cnly 


way in which he : : a. 1 d advance 


-".. p 


ause 


his blaster— he a: a no: aansic 


lei it 


the 


duiy ::' every mistia:: wheth 


er a: 


mag 


gifts :-r ::::. t: devote himself :o 


the i 


>ecu- 


liar : da ; e : : ing the gospel. 


H 


: be- 


lieved that :he ; :a o. si:n :: :be 


■ ■ ... ~ • 


[ : ended much, under God, upon 


:be zeal- 


ous sel la g labors of the lai 


hose 


daa irere in paths and 




aces 


: the :az: h 




i.ssa- 


dor of the L 






S abb 




:he 


gospel mini ve a 







L I V I N G WATERS. 1 53 

earthly office, the brightest link that con- 
nects this earthly scene with the transcend - 
ant interests of the life to come — and hav- 
ing gifts fitting him for this labor, he 
prayed that, if the Master willed it, he 
would remove the almost insurmountable 
difficulties in his path. 

The way grew more tangled, obsta- 

g thickened around, and when, with 
a sorrowful heart, he was about to aban- 
don the path across which the Saviour 

ned to frown — in a way so singular, 
that were I to tell it, the belief of some 

ild be staowred — the clouds all van- 

DO 

i, and he took up his high commission. 
What must have been his sensations 
when he stood up for the first time before 
that vast congregation, many of them the 
gay and thoughtless companions of other 
days, and preached the faith he once de- 



154 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

rided. Ad gels, while they looked down 
with adoring wonder, mus; have struck a 
louder note on their gohien harps at this 
exhibition of the unsearchable riches of 
the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ ; and 
many will long remember the first sermon 
of Richard Sutherland. 

He was soon called to take charge ot a 
a parish in one oi our villages in the 
West. With the earnestness of one who 
had looked within the veil and caught 
therefrom a clearer view and truer estimate 
of the passing things of time, he preached 
" Christ crucified/' 

While he did not neglect to warn his 



" to seek and save the lost. 9 ' the ly.r. 

his me- _ - ii ] :»n, :A ; 

life eternal, through Christ Jesus, the onlv 



LIVING WATERS 155 

Saviour — free and full pardon to all who 

likable and full 
glory, not procured by a strict observance 

but by a el 
walk and abiding fellowship with Jesus — 
and eternal life, the purchas : iS 
soffc . ertain inheritance of 

ry humble follower of .1. wher- 

foond, howevei 
But what was most striking, and 

5 the thing I would pre 
— the i : king u this m ::er- 

of-fa — was his humble 

and heaven-like life — the 
upon all, that th-. in his 

,;on, and though - urning on e 
for . that his heart was in heav 

and all his treasui 

majority of the young and th e 
of the village listened to his preach:. _ 



156 THE FOUNTAIN OF 

the pulpit, and the equally influential 
preaching of his daily walk and conversa- 
tion — one, and another, and another, bowed 
at the feet of Jesus — noiseless but constant 
was the ingathering. It was not in the 
earthquake, nor in the wind, but by the 
still, small voice that the Spirit moved on 
so many young hearts — there were tears 
of joy — sweet out-gushings of feeling — af- 
fectionate, full-hearted greetings, as the 
young disciples gathered together for 
prayer. Yes, prayer was offered then — 
not eloquence, not the flow of rhetoric, or 
the melody of well-chosen words — but 
the half-broken utterances, the humble, 
earnest breathings of the contrite heart — 
language cannot describe it, nor the poet's 
fancy shadow it forth. 

Prayer ! the Christian's vital breath — 
the gold of Ophir cannot purchase it. 



--. :f S.. ■ 
it is be free . ■ . i I : : '. . 

hart panteih a:: 
« _ :th 

Sod 

land 

:; :n :"._- 

;: die iin 

was scarcely bpht heard there — few 
_- ..-; : i z r." . :t — :i 

1 * Hang rthy of 

minister. D jld, and 

;nnv 



158 r ?: ~ f o r >~ i a : >" : 7 

_ up that laughed and played about that 
happy f reside — and there was weeping 
thei r nd a vacant seat — a bright angelic 

::. -- 777 7 77 

there arose contention among the followers 
of Him who never strove, and some who 
had run well began to halt — and many 

perplex ; but calmly and tearfully he 

v hiokei :he ::ker.er -.:■—■?,:' is his Fa- 
ther's h :7-r :-/: jve. 

gle. and the jarring sounds of a great 

He would fain have spent his life in his 

former humble rleld, but the Master 

work for him to do. But though 

scene 77s 0777^77. 77 ^hose 7: 
imperfectly fetched, has not. 
True, a ere has sprinkled his hair with 



lit: ltbbs 159 

gray, and time has drawn some wrinkles 
across his brow ; but the disentangled pil- 
grim look, he has it -; and even when 
threading his way along the ^ed 

rcasional upward glancing of 
the eye, and the abstracts ;: _ 

jannot intermed- 
dle, and, from his uncon sck 
w I king elsewher e even al ong the streets 
of the New Jerusalem, 

Now jron will acknowlecL 
friend, that there is nothing marvellous in 
this sim 

this young nllowerof the Lamb, inae: - 
sible tons, His was a borrowed light, 
and the same source is still open tc en- 
lighten d v then I 
and though the world may ridicule, and 
r-.rth den I re not to 



160 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



be cheated out of those joys which we 
know to be real and soul- satisfying. That 
the fruition of them is not the portion of 
all who bear the name of Christian, we 
grant ; but we unhesitatingly assert that 
they are the natural heritage and the 
abiding possession of those who separate 
from the world, and cherish a close and 
daily walk with God. This was the ex- 
perience of the sweet psalmist of Israel, 
of the apostles, of a Martyn, a Wilberforce, 
a Payson, and a host of others, and this, 
my young desponding friend, may be your 
experience. 

I do not say your heart shall never ache 
again, your eye be never dimmed with 
tears. Oh, no ! you are still in a a vale 
of tears," and the Lord hath expressly 
warned his disciples that in the world they 
shall have tribulation — prophets and apos- 



LIVING WATERS. 



161 



ties, the favorites of God in all ages have 
been harrowed with grief, and bore this 
resemblance to the Man of Sorrows ; but 
then they knew with St. Paul that " our 
light affliction, which is but for a moment, 
worketh for us a far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory" — and it is this 
heavenly alchemy which transmutes all 
our dross to gold, and enables us to under- 
stand the seeming paradox — " Sorrowful, 
yet always rejoicing." And when trials 
come, sit not down with the world, and 
brood over them, but that this precious 
truth, which gladdened the heart of the 
apostle, may cheer and sustain yours in 
such an hour, you must use it as he did 
with your eye fixed, as was his, when he 
added, " While we look not on the things 
which are seen, but at the things which 
are not seen : for the things which are 
11 



162 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



seen are temporal, but the things which 
are not seen are eternal." 

We live in times of noisy activity, when 
every day almost records some wonderful 
undertaking, some unparalleled results ; 
and this spirit of enterprise and constant 
effort is not unfelt in religion, but has led 
to the founding of some of the noblest in- 
stitutions which ever elevated and blessed 
mankind. But unfortunately, while the 
Christian of the present day is thus laud- 
ably imitating the earnestness and zeal of 
the primitive Christian, he is much less 
given to that calm and holy meditation 
which alone can raise the soul above this 
earthly scene, and fit it for its homeward 
flight. The study of the Word of Life 
and daily communion with God are indis- 
pensable to the growth and peace of the 
soul. 



LIVING WATERS. 163 

Think much, then, my dear young friend, 
of your heavenly home ; with the eye of 
faith look far into its untold glories, and 
gaze and gaze until you can almost catch 
a glimpse of the rapturous smile of the 
saints in bliss, until your ear can almost 
catch the strains of melody that sweep 
through the courts of the heavenly man- 
sion, as the ransomed multitude cast their 
crowns before the Lamb, and swell the 
anthem of the redeemed. 

The ways of Zion mourn, and the 
mighty phalanx of the ungodly, who are 
treading their way to death is unbroken, 
because of the number of half-way Chris- 
tians. Be no longer one of these strangely 
unnatural followers of the Redeemer, but 
be in earnest, and with unshaken trust in 
your Leader, go forward. Buffeted by 
storms, and tossed by the tempest, you 



164 



THE FOUNTAIN OF 



may be as I have said, but like the mar- 
iner, when the gale is howling by, and the 
seething billows hunting after, with a strong 
hand upon the helm, and his eye "upon 
the compass, fears not the raging waters, 
so you, my reader, with your soul full of 
trust, your hand upon the promises, and 
your eye fixed on Jesus, may walk calmly 
amid all the chances and changes of earth, 
and show to the world that the gospel has 
power to gladden the heart and cheer the 
pilgrimage of earth. And when a few 
more suns have set, you and I, my dear 
young reader, may sit together by the 
crystal river which flows out of the throne 
of God and the Lamb, and drink forever 
of the Fountain of Living Waters. 

" There is a world we have not seen, 

Which time shall never dare destroy ; 
Where mortal footstep hath not been, 
Nor ear hath caught its sounds of joy. 



LIVING WATERS. 



1G5 



There is a region lovelier far 
Than sages tell, or poets sing ; 

Brighter than summer beauties are, 
And softer than the tints of spring. 

It is all holy and serene, 

The land of glory and repose ; 

And there, to dim the radiant scene, 
The tear of sorrow never flows. 

It is not fanned by summer gale, 

'Tis not refreshed by summer showers ; 

It never needs the moon-beam pale, 
For there are known no evening hours. 

In vain the philosophic eye 

May seek to view the fair abode, 

Or find it in the curtained sky — 
It is the dwelling-place of God !" 



THE END. 



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